The Sleeping Secret
by Elizabeth Rowland
Summary: Not DH complient, set during 7th year. Rating more for the inevitable violence than anything else. Both Hermione and Draco have been badly damaged during the war, leaving each with a burning desire for revenge.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The boy was scarred. What a waste. Skin like that should not be permitted to blemish. Three silver scars over his left eye in perfect straight lines. The one on the outside ending level with his nose and the other two being longer. The scar furthest to the right being the longest and reaching level with his lips. His grey eyes seemed to be set like stone, when only four months before they had been alive with fear and rebellion. Even his expression was statuesque in its emotion. Where was this pale, blond boy's arrogance? His charisma? His natural charm?

Now he was competent. But at what price? Yes he could batter down and defeat most in a duel. Yes he could now kill when before even the attempt left him guilt wracked. Yes he was now strong in body, mind and magic. Yes he would be able to protect _her_. But would this now hardened warrior of only seventeen be able to relate to a girl of his own age as he once had? Would he be able to make her smile? Would he be able to even give in to any impulse of rash charm he felt?

He stood, hands behind his back and his feet a shoulders width apart. A warriors' stance. Unfeeling with his grey eyes lazily on the man before him. "It has been some time since I've seen you Draco. I trust your training has progressed well."

"As well as can be expected when those teaching me are either inept or insane." Even his voice was cold and lacked its once proud drawl.

"Who scared your face?"

"My aunt. Each mark is for a mistake I repeated." Had Lord Voldemort had less self control, he would have immediately set out to hunt the psychotic wench down and inflict the same harsh punishment upon her. There was time for that later, he told himself. Besides, knowing Bellatrix she would probably enjoy it.

"I have a task for you. A real task. One of great importance and the reason I had you trained." Draco tilted his head to show attentiveness. He was being remarkably disrespectful. If he had been any other follower he would have been punished. But what can be done to punish someone who fears no pain, emotional or physical and who cares little if they live or die? Besides, he didn't want to risk destroying any more of the boy. Enough damage had already been done courtesy of his Death Eater's training methods. He should have taken him to hand himself. At least then he could have preserved more of the lad's spirit.

"My daughter is in the dungeons of this house," he began. "When she was born I hid her in the muggle world to shield her from this war, fully expecting to be able to reclaim her in a few years. She doesn't know her heritage, but once she came of age the power she inherited from me, Parsletongue among other things, awoke. I refuse to have her caged up here, but having my followers know her true identity would be a ticking time bomb for her exposure and knowing who she really is would tear her apart. So I want you to take her from here, return her to Hogwarts and ensure she remains safe at all costs. It would involve fighting against those who trained you, with undue harshness against my command." At that, his eyes flared with anger, though it reached no other part of his posture or expression. Let him feel anger, it would help him keep his daughter safe.

"Go now, she is in the first cell and is a familiar face to you." He handed to boy a piece of parchment baring his mark and a message not to question him in any of his actions. "Go now and free her. Tell her that I ordered you to watch over her but never tell her of her heritage." The boy inclined his head slightly, the greatest show of respect he offered anyone now, and left to obey his command.

* * *

Death Eaters jeered at him as he passed like they always did, but it bothered him not. Let them stare, let them sneer. He knew their Lord would fall. As surely as he bore three marks of failure their Lord would fall. Four times he was stopped by his inferior superiors. Each time they withered and cowered when they saw the note. Pitiful creatures. All of them. None of them would survive a true duel with him. None except their Lord and he would fall through arrogance and carelessness. Then a hand was on his shoulder.

He stopped, knowing already than if he turned apologetic black eyes would be on him. Lingering over the marks of his past inadequacies with regret. "Severus. Take care of my mother. I won't be here to do so."

"What are you talking about?"

"I am leaving on the order of our Lord and I won't return. As I said. Take care of my mother." With those words he brushed the hand from his shoulder and walked on. To the dungeons. As always, there was no guard. Bad practice, but then, not many prisoners lived long enough to require guarding.

She was on the floor, long hair tangled, exposed legs cut and awkwardly sprawled, hinting that she had been knocked down. He knew this twitching girl was dressed in what was left of a Hogwarts school uniform. Though he had never seen her look so week. Always she had stood proud, tall and defiant against anything she deemed unjust. Now she was prone, her clothes dirty and tattered as she lay on the floor. He held no illusions as to what she had been through, despite any warnings their Lord had given her captors not to harm her. She had been tortured, most likely raped as well. Hermione Granger, daughter to Lord Voldemort. Only four months ago he would have been surprised, possibly horrified. But now finding something that fazed him was a difficult task. Much of what he had once been had been beaten and brutalised out of him.

With a bored sigh, he rolled up his left sleeve and waved his forearm over the lock. A click within the mechanism told him it had reacted to his Dark Mark. Draco pushed the barred door open, careful not to hit her with it. Her body would most likely be in quite the state after a week here. He crouched down beside her, wishing he knew some healing spells so that their up coming journey would be easier. Before all this he had been thinking about being a healer. He doubted he had that in him now.

She tensed when he laid a gentle hand on her back. So she was awake. "Granger, this is your lucky day." She tensed further, her legs curling up slightly as though they could protect her. It seemed someone else had said that to her under different circumstances. "I've been ordered get you out of here and protect you. Can you walk?"

"It hurts to move." Her voice was horse, as though she hadn't spoken for days and had done nothing but scream for longer.

"That can't be pleasant. But it isn't what I asked. Can you walk?"

"I don't know. It hurts to move." Wonderful, he wasn't the only one on the edge of insanity.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked, trying in vain to soften his voice. Her legs curled up more tightly, pressing as close together as possible and breaking open half healed cuts. But not all of the blood on her thighs was from cuts.

"Everywhere," was her meek reply.

"Well, let's get you standing up and see how much of your weight I'll need to support since apperating is too risky with you in this state."

She cringed when he took a firm hold on her waist, but didn't try to get away from him. It didn't take him long to lift her onto her feet, her arm around his neck and her body all but limp as he supported the majority of her weight. "This would be much easier if I knew some healing spells," he muttered as they made their slow way out of her cell. She was limping heavily and there was a slow trickle of blood running down her inner left thigh. Suddenly he felt sick. How could anyone let even just a fraction of what had most likely happened to her happen to their daughter? His Lord could easily have removed her from the dungeons long before now, but instead he left her there to keep up appearances. Now it would not be loyalty to his Lord that would keep the secret of her lineage. It would be disgust of the man as well. His Lord had been right, knowing her heritage would tear her apart.

A quiet whimper escaped her when they reached the stairs, but to her credit she didn't complain or ask to be carried though he would have done so if she did ask. No, the whimper was due to the pain of lifting her leg higher than it could comfortably go in the state it was in. But one whimper was all she gave, despite the twenty or so steps. It impressed him. Perhaps he would offer to carry her once they were out of the strong hold.

She was trembling with her eyes fixed to the stone floor as they made their way through the corridors and into the entrance hall. "Well, well, well," came the voice of his aunt. The insane woman who had given him his marks. "Little Dragon is helping the Mudblood escape."

"That I am," he replied drably. "On the orders of the man you're stalking. Our Lord wants her away from here and kept safe. It's the reason he had you torment-I mean train me." At one point there would have been arrogance in his voice when he taunted someone, now there was simply nonchalance.

"Why would our Lord do that? Admit it," she went on, drawing her wand. "You're a filthy little blood traitor turn coat." Fortunately for him, though obviously not for his aunt, their Lord had given no restrictions on punishment for those who stood in the way of his orders. And unfortunately for her, she had trained him well.

In less than a second his wand was in hand. A swift arc and a jet of blue light shot at the witch, send her flying backwards and into the wall with a howl like a wild animal. Giving her a mark of her own beneath her eye. But he didn't stay to admire his handy work. Instead he simply led Hermione through the door and into the surrounding woods where he could easily find something to turn into a portkey.

The young woman gave a sharp gasp as he helped her to the floor and leaned her against a tree. Her breathing was short and fast, as though the full extent of her pain had only just made itself clear. A glance to her face let him know that she was crying, even though her head was bowed. Frowning, he turned away. For some reason seeing her beaten down and crying was unnerving to him. Far more unnerving than anything he had witnessed or endured during his training.

It didn't take him long to find a stick big enough for both of them to hold onto and soon he returned to her side to gently place her hand around it. She didn't fight against him as he knelt down beside her and manipulated her hand. She did however move to lean against him, resting her head against his shoulder. "Make sure you hold on," he said flatly, holding the stick with one hand and casting the port key spell with his other.

* * *

A/N I hope that you enjoyed this. Please review.

Chapter 2 will be coming around this time next week as I'm using this to keep me on track with the novel I'm writing.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Each one of her breaths was now a quiet whimper or gasp as Draco carefully and slowly led the heavily injured girl across the grounds of Hogwarts. He wasn't sure if it was just after curfew or if the Christmas holidays had began, but no one was to be seen out and about. He glanced to Granger as she soldiered on without voluntary complaint.

With a sigh he brought her to a stop. Her knees buckled and he quickly caught her before she could fall. She looked up to him with bleary brown eyes as he lifted her up in a manner he hoped was gentle. He could feel dried blood on her leg, crumbling beneath his hand, as he quickly carried her towards the castle. He gritted his teeth and refused to look down to her as she leaned her head against his shoulder. A rage unlike any he had ever felt before slowly starting to swell in his heart.

When he found out who did this to her, he was going to kill them. Slowly and painfully. Why, he had no idea, but carrying this broken creature that used to be so proud, so defiant in the face of adversity, made him so angry. It was like something sacred had been desecrated and there was nothing that he could do to try and put the wrong right. The large double doors into the foyer bore the brunt of his rage. He kicked them open, only to wish he had been far more discrete when he saw students filing out of the Great Hall.

The chatter died down instantly and the students stared at him. Brushing their attention aside, Draco ran toward the stair and took them two at a time. He had to get to the hospital wing without being stopped. He couldn't exactly put up a fight while he was holding Hermione like this and worse yet, if he did put up some sort of fight he would find himself on a fast track to Azkaban. He couldn't let that happen. Failure was unacceptable, even when he didn't have anyone to scar his face for it.

Unsurprisingly at the speed he was running, it didn't take him long to reach the hospital wing. Before he could kick that door open however, Hermione reached out and turned the handle. At least she was awake and showing signs of life.

The hospital wing was exactly how he remembered it. Rows of empty beds, light and airy with that bloody awful medical scent. And Madam Pomfrey coming out of her office. Only to freeze when she saw him walking towards her with Hermione in his arms. A small frightened squeak escaped her throat as he placed the heavily injured girl on the bed nearest to the healer before casually taking a seat beside her. The healer didn't move. Perhaps she was too afraid of the known Death Eater that sat so close to her. He hadn't spoken to anyone outside of his Lords pathetic little cult since his escape from Hogwarts almost six months ago, but he was well aware that he now carried himself in a way that only a killer would.

"Well? Aren't you going to help her?" he asked, crossing his legs at the ankles and leaning back to close his eyes. He heard her approach and gasp in horror, probably at the extent of Hermione's injuries. Then came the sound of the curtain being drawn around her bed.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he heard the door open, but he didn't waste any time in having his hand hover over his wand and opening his eyes to look at who ever was entering. Unsurprisingly, Professor McGonagall came striding purposefully into the room with her wand blatantly pointed at him. Once upon a time he would have smiled and said something mocking or sarcastic. Now however he simply looked at her, waiting for her to address him so that he would know exactly what it was he was dealing with.

"Mister Malfoy," she said warily, with a glance to the curtain concealing Hermione and the healer. "Explain yourself." He blinked slowly and adjusted his position slightly.

"I was ordered to get Granger out of the dungeons in the Dark Lord's strong hold and to protect her. Whether I do that by hanging around here and helping you with your campaign against him or by waiting until Granger is back on her feet and abducting her is entirely up to you. If you choose to allow me to stay I assure you I will be useful. I've been highly trained and I have no interest in return to someone who would allow that," he gestured to the curtain, "to happen."

"You rescued her because you were ordered to?"

"Had I known that she was being held captive I would have acted sooner. Would you prefer to continue this interview with me under the influence veritiserum?" he asked blandly. The question itself seemed to put the old woman somewhat at ease. Never mind that lies were not something he thought were worth the effort. Truth was easier if it was told in the right way.

"I have more important things to worry about right now," she told him before disappearing behind the curtain to talk with Madame Pomfrey, leaving him to fold his arms over his chest and close his eyes again. The darkness comforting him as he listened to the grim conversation between the two old women.

* * *

Despite Madam Pomfrey's three or four hours of intensive healing magic and the countless potions that she had needed to drink, Hermione's body still throbbed with pain. Her abdomen in particular cramped and un-cramped with such force that it made her cringe every few seconds as she stared out of the window across the grounds. At least she knew why it was doing that. She had taken a potion to either prevent her from getting pregnant or to get rid of any cluster of cells that had already formed within her womb, she didn't ask which. She didn't want to know. The mere thought that a child was capable of being created from such an experience made her feel sick.

The lake looked deceptively calm tonight. The lack of wind letting the surface stay as still as glass. She knew what was under there though. The squid. Numerous grindilow. Hell, there was an entire city of merpeople.

Madam Pomfrey had tried to convince her to stay in bed. To go to sleep. How was she meant to do that though? How was she meant to let herself be so vulnerable again? Because that was what sleep was. Vulnerability to anyone that could get close without waking her, vulnerability to nightmares, to memories. Hermione hadn't said anything to her. She had just looked at the old woman and she gasped and backed off. As though she had seen something horrible.

Perhaps that was what she was now. Something horrible.

The moonlight seemed to leach the colour out of the landscape, washing it in a calming but bland grey light. The whole scene looked like a badly taken black and white photograph. Minimal artistry and very little to rouse passion or emotion.

Something terrible.

The Forbidden Forest looked almost welcoming to her in its wilderness. So much cleaner than this society that she lived in. A world of survival was not a world without beauty. There was something elegant about the way foxes conducted their business and the way rabbits tried to avoid being that business.

Something to be afraid of.

A cleansing rage began to swell in her chest, burning through her like a wild fire. If she was going to become something truly frightful, she would at least become something that was worth fearing. Let the people who had done this to her see her and realise that the kitten they had been toying with was dead, and from its corpse a vengeful serpent had gained what it needed to live. To grow strong and spiteful.

The first thing she needed to do was get a new wand. Her own had been snapped in front of her, but she doubted that it would have work properly for her now anyway. The girl it had chosen was long gone.

Another forceful cramp tore into her stomach. She fought against the cringe, but without much success. "Are you alright?" came the bland and emotionless voice of Draco Malfoy as he approached her. Someone else who had been killed and reborn. She didn't reply. She was sick of hearing that question and others like it. She hadn't even heard him enter the Hospital Wing, but she could hear him walking toward her now. Possibly only because he wanted her to hear his approach.

It didn't take him long to reach her side and she spared him a glance. He was stood to her left so that she couldn't see his scars, but she didn't know if that was the shadow of his vanity or pure accident. Either way, she wished he had stood to her other side so that she could see the real face of her rescuer.

She felt different around him. The fire of her anger was still there, but it was almost like it was further away so that the heat wasn't as searing.

"How did your talk with Professor McGonagall go?" she asked, the first thing she had said to anyone since she had arrived in Hogwarts. But then it was the first time that talking had felt right, normal almost, despite her still raw throat. He shrugged, looking out over the grounds.

"She's agreed that I can stay and fulfil the last order that the Dark Lord will ever give me. She's also going to try and get me acquitted so that I can return to Hogwarts and continue my lessons."

"I'm glad," she said without really thinking. Once she had said it however he turned his head and looked directly at her. The moment she saw those scars and those empty yet painfully full eyes she knew that she _was_ glad. More than that, she felt safe with him there. Of course she knew that those feeling were probably only there because he had taken her out of her nightmare, but that didn't make them any less potent.

"You should get some sleep. It's four in the morning and you look like you could do with it." She looked over her shoulder to the bed that had been designated to her, and at that moment she couldn't think of anything more frightening.

"Where are you sleeping?" He didn't reply for a moment.

"In the chair next to bed, if at all." Biting her lip, she gave a nod. "You're safe here, don't worry." He may not have outright said it, but she knew that by that he meant he would be watching, he would protect her.

Like he had been ordered to do.

* * *

A/N So I got bored and the chapter ended up finished before I thought it would. I'll still be updating on Saturday though if the every chapter is this short.

As always, I hope you enjoyed this and please leave a review letting me know what you think of this.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The quiet sound of a woman crying broke through Draco's light slumber. It didn't sound like Granger was in an immediate danger which meant he could probably ignore it. However that wasn't in his nature. With a frown, he opened his eyes.

And soon wished he hadn't.

He hated seeing a woman cry. Mostly because he had seen his mother crying too often as a child and especially when Voldemort had returned. He had never really learnt how to deal with such a circumstance and yet as he watched Hermione, sitting, hugging her knees and crying, he most definitely had the desire to try and help her. How to go about that however was a mystery to him. In all honesty, he was somewhat hesitant about touching her after what she had been through.

So he stayed where he was, sitting in the chair beside her bed, watching her cry. "Granger?" She turned her head to look at him, her cheeks stained with tears and her eyes filled with anger more than sadness.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," she replied in a bizarrely steady voice. His only reply was to shrug and keep watching her. He didn't really know what else he could do. "I'm just so sick of being weak."

"You're not weak."

"I am. I was weak enough to get kidnapped. Weak enough to get . . ." She closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. "To get gang raped. Weak enough to get tortured. And now weak enough to wake up crying about it."

"None of that shows weakness Granger. Being out numbered and losing only shows that your enemy was either too cowardly to take you on alone or that they knew you were too powerful for only one of them to beat you. In other words, they were afraid of you. As for waking up crying, I'm fairly certain that's a normal reaction after what you've been through." She took another shaky breath and hugged her knees closer to her chest. Part of him wanted to put his arm around her, but he wasn't that sort of a person. Not anymore. Her certainly felt sympathy for her, but showing that was proving difficult. Even his voice would not lend itself to a comforting tone and stayed as flat and expressionless as always.

"Something bad happened to you as well as well. How did you cope?" Draco tilted his head slightly and stared straight into her blood shot eyes.

"I didn't."

* * *

Draco was still sitting in the chair by her bed, either sleeping or pretending to, Hermione couldn't tell which. She wished he wasn't though. She would have liked to have his own brand of support for when her parents arrived. To be honest she just wanted to get back to normal, or at least to a semblance of it. But she did need a new wand and some replacement robes. It would be nice to spend some time in a book shop as well while she was out.

Sitting on her bed, Hermione fiddled with the bottom of her baggy jumper. Her stomach still twitching with pain every now and again, though nowhere near as bad as the previous night and not as frequent. These pains however were probably from her forced period. It explained why she wasn't hungry in the slightest yet could really do with a large amount of chocolate ice cream. Though that didn't match up to well with the nausea she was feeling.

She looked up as the door opened and forced a smile as she saw her parents tentatively step into the hospital wing. The moment her mother's eyes found her own, Hermione felt tears start to prick at her eyes. Then her mother was running towards her with her arms open. The moment her mother reached her and wrapped her arms around her, Hermione felt at home. Not quite as safe as she felt when Draco had been carrying her through the castle, but she cared less about possible danger.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I thought you were dead." Hermione buried her face in her mother's shoulder and held onto her as tightly as she could. Then a hand was on her shoulder.

"Hey princess."

"Daddy." Without hesitation, Hermione let go of her mother and latched on to her dad.

"It's a good job your back in one piece. I thought I was going to have to sit through Phantom Menace on my own." At that she couldn't help but laugh into his chest.

"Hey, it's my childhood getting massacred as well you know. I can't miss out on that."

"We'll have to watch the original trilogy when we get home."

"About that," Hermione said hesitantly, pulling away from her dad. "I won't be coming back until the Christmas holidays."

"You're sure?" her mother asked, placing a hand on her arm and looking at her with worry. Hermione gave a weak smile and a nod.

"I just want to get as close to normal as possible."

"Well, we still need to get you to Diagon Alley. You need a wand and a few other things."

The sound of Draco clearing his throat behind them drew their attention. She had almost forgotten that he was there, but now he was standing up, looking at the family with his usual blank expression. Hermione's mother shifted uncomfortably and her dad looked to her with faint worry.

"Forgive me for interrupting, but if Hermione is leaving the grounds of Hogwarts I'm afraid I have to insist that I accompany you."

"And you are?" Her mother asked, suddenly sounding very over protective.

"Draco Malfoy," he replied, seeming to attempt something similar to a smile. It wasn't very flattering compared to the smile that she could remember and was more of a grimace, but it warmed her heart to know that he was trying. "And I've been ordered to protect your daughter."

"Mom, he's the one that rescued me," Hermione said before either one of her parents could protest. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him." At that he raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"In that case you're welcome to come along," her mother said, sounding much more enthusiastic about the idea. "I'm Jane and this is my husband, Lewis." At that he gave a polite nod of acknowledgment and nothing else. The fact that he stayed silent and offered no other gesture only seemed to put her mother on edge.

"Well, erm, are you ready to head off dear?"

It didn't take them long to pass through the castle, Draco hanging back, probably on purpose. Whatever had happened to him, she was worried about the effect it had had on him. Not to mention worrying about him was by far easier than thinking about what had happened to herself. Despite his silence and distant nature, he seemed to be trying. He even gave another borderline creepy fake smile as he offered to help her mother apparate to the Leaky Cauldron.

The pub was bustling when she appeared with her dad. Her stomach felt heavy all of a sudden, watching the people at the bar or moving around the room. She tensed, not really knowing why, but knowing that the thought of anyone there so much as brushing against her made her feel ill.

"Ah, baby girl, you hurting my hand."

"Sorry dad," Hermione said, quickly letting go of his hand. Then just as quickly wishing she hadn't. At least until, with a pop, Draco and her mother appeared. Draco dropping the older woman's hand almost immediately. Which was just as well because that hand soon flew up to her mouth and she was running in the direction of the ladies toilets.

"You'd think that your mother would have gotten used to getting around like this by now."

"Yeah," she replied, wrapping her arms around herself and wishing she didn't have to be there. "I kind of want to get her to travel by port key just to see if that makes her throw up as well."

"Hermione," he scolded lightly. A slight pause followed until he said, "Besides, it would never work. There's no way you get her to use one of those things after the way you described it when you were fifteen."

Without a word, Draco turned his attention away from the door her mother had just disappeared through and moved to stand close by her side with a brief and light touch to her lower back. The knot in her stomach loosened and a weak smile found its way to her face. With a glance to Draco, standing impassively yet protectively just behind her, Hermione stopped holding herself. She still didn't want to be in a crowded room, or really around people that she didn't know, but with Draco nearby she knew she would be safe until she got her new wand. Actually.

"I have no idea where to go for a wand now that Olivander's missing."

"I do, but it wouldn't be advisable for your parents to go there," Draco inform her.

"Why not?" her dad asked, sounding oddly suspicious. It was strange hearing her usually friendly and placid father talk to someone like that, but she supposed it was a natural reaction.

"Because the witches and wizards in Knockturn Alley aren't particularly tolerant of those incapable of performing magic and I can only effectively keep my eye on one person while we're there."

"Knockturn Alley?" Hermione asked, feeling slightly queasy. Draco gave a nod.

"While Grimmel's isn't quite up to the standard of Olivander's, he is reliable and would do nothing to cross a Malfoy. Even so, it's the passersby that I don't trust."

"And you want to take my daughter there?"

"I've been before," she replied with a shrug. "Besides, Draco knows the place and I trust him."

"Honey I've just got you back, I don't want to take any risks with you."

"Dad, I need a new wand as soon as possible. I'm a sitting duck without one. If I have to go to Knockturn, then I have to go into that cess pit. You and mom wait here. Me and Draco will go and get my new wand and come back unscathed. It might take a while, but you were there when I got my first wand so that should be no surprise to you. It take about three hours to find the right one after all."

"You get your stubbornness from your mother you know?"

"I also get my emotional black mail skills from her," she replied with a sweet smile. Her dad looked her straight in the eyes and took a deep breath.

"Okay, go. I'll handle your mother. You have enough money on you to get a wand, right?" At that she gave a nod and kissed her father on the cheek.

"Thank you daddy, be back with a wand."

* * *

"Are you adopted by any chance?" Draco asked as he tapped the necessary bricks with his wand.

"No," Hermione replied as the walled opened itself up, exposing Diagon Alley. The young woman cringed slightly, then clung to his left arm, her eyes scanning the flock of people nervously. "But my mother didn't meet my dad until I was two years old. What made you ask that?" He glanced down to her, mostly ignoring her hold on his arm. It didn't bother him, in fact the contact was reassuring in an odd way. He had no idea how to respond to it, so he didn't bother, but knowing that at least one person wasn't disgusted by him or afraid of him held some sort of solace.

"Two blue eyed parents and a brown eyed daughter. If it had been the other way around I wouldn't have thought twice." At that she gave a small, semi nervous laugh as they walked into the crowd towards Diagon Alley. She hugged into his side and he took that as a hint to avoid as many people as possible. Luckily while this place was busy, it wasn't packed by any means.

"You're more observant than I give you credit for. And I'm surprised that you know about recessive alleles. Not many wizards know about the existence of genetics, never mind any of the details." She was nervous and trying not to show it. It was easy to see, and not just because she was clinging onto his arm.

"I used to want to be a healer," he told her, hoping to help distract her.

Knockturn Alley was as dank and dismal as always. Filled with people that had no idea what subtlety was when it came to hiding the fact that they were Dark Arts junkies. Most of them kept their eyes to the floor and scurried about their business. The few that spared him a glance were wise enough to keep their distance, either recognising a Malfoy or a killer. Despite the reputation of this place, it's inhabitants tended to avoid both.

Grimmel's shop was surprisingly well maintained, with the sign painted and the large windows immaculately clean. Hermione let go of his arm and he pushed the door open, knocking the bell above it. The smartly dress mid thirties owner looked up from the service desk and smiled.

Then froze in fear, gave a small nervous laugh and quickly scurried out into the shop floor as Hermione followed him in. "Mister Malfoy, always an honour to receive your patronage." Draco ignored him and walked over to the chair in the corner of the shop, sat down, crossed his legs at his ankles and kept his eyes pointedly fixed on the shop owner.

"My friend needs a new wand. I suggest you treat her as you would any other valued customer." At that he gave a another nervous laugh and turned to look at Hermione.

"Well my dear, let's get started shall we." Both Gremmil and Hermione seemed equally nervous with the opening measurements, but soon the air of professionalism took over and Gremmil started pulling long and thin boxes from the shelves behind the counter for Hermione to try. Then came the usual swishes of wood followed by various destructive effects. For an hour Hermione tested wands, Gimmel getting more and more annoyed as the time passed until finally he just stopped. Leaning forward slightly, he glared into Hermione's eyes. "I'm _not_ as patient as Olivander," he told her tersely, Hermione looking slightly queasy at his close proximity.

"You don't have his customer service skills either," she pointed out quietly.

At that, the shop owner rolled his eyes and strode back behind the counter. This time though he reached beneath it and pulled out an ornate wooden box, set it down and opened it so that the wand within was exposed to Hermione.

"I made this wand on a commission, but it rejected the one that paid me to make it. So why don't you give it a try?" Hesitantly, Hermione picked up the wand and from the slightly startled yet happy look on her face she already knew she had the right wand. A flick confirmed his thoughts with an impressive light show that reminded him of a great leopard. Gemmil, sighed with relief and leaned forward on the counter. "Thirteen and a half inches, yew with a core of nundu hair. Sturdy and good for anything that packs a lot of power. Now take that thing and get out of my shop. I don't want it around for another moment."

"How much is it?"

"How much?" he asked with a laugh as Draco rose to his feet. "Sweetie, getting rid of that cursed thing is all the payment I need. Three of my friends died to get the core for it and I want nothing further to do with it."

"You're sure?" she asked, sounding as though she wanted to argue further.

"Positive."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Despite the fact that Hermione was still clinging onto his arm as they moved through Diagon Alley with her parents, she stood a little taller, a little more confidant. Or at least less scared. She'd let go of his arm whenever they were in a shop, but she'd never stray too far away from him. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing, it probably wasn't, but it would probably take some time for her to feel safe again after what she had been through.

Her parents had noticed what she was doing as well. Jane in particular seemed rather unhappy with the situation, though she never voiced any misgivings. Lewis however just seemed curious about him and Draco would occasionally catch him watching the pair with an almost studious expression that strongly reminded him of Hermione. Despite the fact that this man wasn't her biological father, Hermione seemed to have picked up most of her mannerisms from him. Right down to the down to the 'fuck off and leave me alone' glare that both of them had aptly demonstrated in Flourish and Blotts when a shop assistant had tried to bother them.

It had surprised him when Lewis bought a book, but it certainly hadn't surprised him when Hermione came away with an arm load of them. "How on Earth are you going to carry all of those things?" her mother asked, folding her arms as Hermione handed over her money to the girl behind the counter. In answer, Hermione took out her new reddish brown wand and cast a simple lightening spell. "That would be a really useful trick for Christmas shopping," her mother said in response, this time with slightly sulky tone as Hermione easily lifted her bag of books from the counter.

The rest of the outing passed in much the same uneventful manner. Hermione hanging onto his arm or lingering close by, Draco staying out of conversation unless something was said directly to him then attempting in vain to pay for his own food and instead only being reminded that you should never argue with mothers about anything involving money. At least Hermione and Lewis found the spectacle amusing.

It was fully dark when they apparated back to Hogwarts and walked up to the Head Mistresses office. "You take care of yourself baby girl," Lewis said as he tightly hugged Hermione.

"I'll be home in about two weeks, so don't you worry about me."

"I wish you'd reconsider coming home early," her mother said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Hermione turned away from her father and gave Jane a hug.

"It's just two weeks mom. I'll be home before you know it, making a mess in your kitchen baking comfort cookies and cakes."

"Oh goodie," her mother replied sarcastically before pulling away a tucking a curl behind her daughters ear. "Just stay safe okay. I hate even letting you out of my sight."

"You're not going to get soppy are you?" Hermione asked with a smile that clearly showed she didn't mean it.

"Oh heaven forbid that I get emotional over the return of my only child." The friendly banter continued a little longer before final, almost tearful goodbyes were exchanged and Hermione's parents disappeared into the green flames in the fire place.

The moment they were gone, Hermione's arms wrapped around herself once again. It almost looked as though she was trying to keep warm, but Draco recognised the nervousness in her as she rubbed her arms. So once again Draco moved to stand by her side and gave the base of her spine a light touch to remind her that she was safe. She glanced over her shoulder to him with a small smile and her posture relaxed a little.

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy?" Said Professor McGonagall from behind her desk. "We need to discuss your living arrangements. For your safety and the safety of the other students, I'm afraid that you will have to sleep in the Shrieking Shack, Mister Malfoy. I assure you that in your absence today it has been refurbished. And Miss Granger, would you prefer to return to Griffindor tower or have your own private room for the rest of the year? I'll understand if you want a room of your own after what you've been through, so the choice is ultimately yours." Hermione bit down on her bottom lip and once again looked over her should to him. This time with something like fear in her eyes.

"Could I have my own room? Just until after Christmas. I'm not really comfortable around people for too long." McGonagall gave a small smile and a nod.

"How am I supposed to protect her if I'm in the Shrieking Shack?" Draco asked, keeping his voice bland so that his annoyance didn't shine through.

"I assure you Mister Malfoy that Hogwarts and its ground are entirely safe. Hermione will be in no danger here, and right now it's you that we need to worry about."

"Excuse me?" He asked, not pointing out that it had been on the grounds of Hogwarts that Hermione had been kidnapped.

"You're to be at the gates tomorrow morning at seven thirty, where you will be collected by a small group of aurors and taken to, as far as I know, holding cell within the Ministry where you will be questioned. I'm not sure how long they intend to keep you, but I doubt it will be very long as the only actual crime you've committed is the attempted murder of Dumbledore and you did that under coercion." At that his jaw clenched. It was most irritating that there were so many obstacles between him and his mission objective. What was more annoying however was knowing that going along with this was the best thing to do and would allow him to get closer to Hermione and more effectively protect her.

* * *

Jane sat down on the swing in the playground she used to take her little girl to. It was almost sinister at night and she felt no comfort from the familiar, empty surroundings. Especially since this was the last place she had seen her Hermione's biological father. With a sigh, she took out a round, silver amulet from her pocket. A blue stone set into its centre and a snake swallowing its own tail engraved around it.

Placing her forefinger on the head of the snake, Jane closed her eyes and ran her finger slowly around the amulet three time. Then she put it back in her pocket and waited.

As always, she wasn't left alone for long. A quiet pop let her know she was no longer alone and she looked up to see her old lover. Dear Merlin did he look like crap, but then she supposed death had that effect on a lot of people. The vampires she had met in her lifetime hadn't exactly been much to look at either.

He looked like he hadn't eaten a half decent meal for months, emaciated, sickly pale and hairless. His features grotesquely serpentine and his eyes red. Had it not been for Hermione, she would have missed his bid brown eyes. Now however it seemed that he preferred to keep his eyes on magic with that little gift of his. Yet his smile was somehow just like she remembered. Gentle and almost loving. There had been no greater reward then his smile when she had been a young woman, mostly because it had been so very difficult to get him to smile. Then again, the sex had been fairly mind blowing as well.

"Jane," he said with a nod, his voice a higher, raspier version of his once entrancing and slick sound. "It's good to see you after so long." She smiled and stood up, then walked slowly over to him.

"Hello Tom," she said pleasantly.

Then slammed her fist into his face. The force of the blow making him stumble back and nearly fall over. "What the fuck were you thinking?! Leaving our little girl in your God damn dungeon!"

"Your right hook has improved since you were last pissed off at me," he commented, rubbing his jaw. "I ordered my followers not to lay a finger on her while she was there."

"Well they didn't fucking listen to you! It's bad enough that I thought she was dead for so fucking long, but that she came back having been raped and tortured!" At that, he finally reacted in a way a father should. He got angry. His jaw clenched and his right eye twitched.

"What?" he asked, slowly and deliberately.

"You heard me. And it should probably worry you. She's got my stubbornness and your temper. I'd feel sorry for whoever did that to her, because she will go after them. But frankly they deserve whatever the hell she's going to do to them."

"Do you know who's responsible?"

"No, unsurprisingly she didn't really want to talk about it. Though I am glad she has a body guard of sorts. He's probably the only person she feel safe around now."

"Body guard? You mean the Malfoy boy?"

"You know him?" she asked, her anger still bubbling through her entire body. Though she was feeling some satisfaction at the red mark on her ex-fiancés face.

"Know him? I had him trained to protect her, and I've had to discipline some of my followers for being too harsh on him. He used to be a rather charming young man before his aunt got her hands on him." Jane closed her eyes and took a steady breath to stop her from punching him again.

"So your one attempt at being a good father on the last sixteen years has been to have a boy brutalised into being her guard. What did I ever see in you? And what the hell was wrong with simply telling her who you really are to her and smuggling her out yourself?" she finally snapped. "She's not some fragile little flower. She could handle knowing the truth, it won't break her. In fact it would have saved her from some real damage. She already assumed that whoever her father is, he's a monster, just from how I never talk about you."

"If you think she needs to know, why haven't you told her."

"She's never asked. You see, she's a daddy's girl, and Lewis is a better father than you've ever been." A perk of once being in a surprisingly loving relationship with Lord Voldemort for six years was knowing just how to hurt him. And from the small, almost invisible flinch, she knew she had hit the bulls eye on her target. With any luck when he got back to where ever he had set up, one of the people he tortured to let off steam would have been someone that had hurt her daughter.

"Has she really never asked any questions about me?" he asked, sounding oddly unsure for only the second time she had ever heard.

"No," she replied, softening her voice slightly. Despite what she had said and how stupid he had been recently, when Hermione had been a baby he had been a good father and up until the day he died he had visited once a week and let her know that he always wanted to be there for both Jane and Hermione. "The only memories she has of you are the memories she's gained since you came back." He hung his head and walked over to the swing to sit down, his elbows on his knees. Then he looked up to her, his eyes rapidly turning back to their natural brown colour, making Jane's heart twist with the sort of regret that only a first love could bring.

"Could you tell me about her? The things she likes? Just anything?"

* * *

**A/N** Reviews are greatly appriciated. Also, I know that Voldemort is acting out of character, the reason for that is plot related and will be revealed in time. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

It was still in full dark when Draco emerged from the tunnel at quarter past seven. He had noticed Hermione sitting on the grass, just out of reach of the Whomping Willow before he had reached the tunnels' end and wasted no time in walking over to her. "What are you doing out here?" he asked as she stood up and smiled at him.

"Seeing you off. And I have something for you." At that she dug into her pocket and pulled out a sickle. "I enchanted this so that if we were apart and one of us was in danger we could use it as a sort of portkey and also to communicate. Look at where the numbers should be." She handed him the sickle and he looked where he had been told.

Around the outside where the numbers should be were the words "Hello Draco". As they started to walk toward to the gates. "You can change the words just by rubbing them with your thumb and thinking of the words you want to put on there. That changes what's on my coin as well. If the message changes then you'll hear Poison by Alice Cooper, but if I'm in danger you'll hear a bell. I'll hear the same as well if you need me. To get to where I am just hold the coin in your palm and apparate. And er, it works across apparition wards as well." At that he stopped and stared at her.

"Are you telling me that if they decide to throw me into Azkaban, this will get me out?" Her cheeks blushed bright red and she started walking again, her eyes fixed on the ground. As he pocketed the coin. "Hermione?"

"Well, in theory it should," she replied meekly. "You rescued me, the least I could do is return the favour." Well, at least she had the good grace to look embarrassed about the fact that she would help break someone out of Azkeban.

The rest of their walk to the gates was in an oddly comfortable silence, with Hermione walking close by but making no effort to touch him. At least not until they could clearly see the four men that he assumed were aurors. He guessed that they had gotten close enough to make her nervous when she once again took hold of his arm. While normally he wouldn't mind, it did make him wonder how she would cope with being in the busy hallways of the school on her own though.

A glance to his watch showed that he was five minutes early so they certainly couldn't say anything about his punctuality. He could see McGonagall standing with the aurors as well, most likely to make sure that they didn't mistreat him. The closer they got to the gates, the tighter Hermione's grip on his arm became. Then he realised why they were making her so nervous. Three of the men had their wands out and pointed at him and the fourth was holding a pair of heavy looking manacles.

"Draco Malfoy," said the one with the manacles. A quick glance over the man let Draco know that his weak spot would be his left knee. One light blow there and he would have the time he needed to use a slicing spell to slash his throat. Two of the men pointing wands at him looked like they had barely gotten out of training and would fall as quickly as Death Eater rookies. "Hand over your wand to mister Shacklebolt and put your hands behind your back." A glance to the tall black man he had gestured to let Draco know where the real threat of the group was coming from. Or at least where it would have been coming from if he hadn't been looking at Hermione with half hidden concern. The man had no easily detectable weaknesses and the girl he had been ordered to protect seemed to know him somehow so he would be reluctant to do any lasting damage to this Shacklebolt. By this point, Hermione had let go of his arm and was now practically hiding behind him. Most likely because this was the first time since he had gotten her out of her father's dungeon that she had come across someone even capable of being a real threat.

Not wanting to make a fuss, Draco silently handed over his wand and turned his back to the man with the manacles and let him fasten them on his wrists. Hermione watching on, standing just in front of him with worry in her eyes. Then, biting her lip and looking rather nervous, she wrapped her around him and buried her face into his chest. Draco's back stiffen with shock and he stared down to the wild curls on the top of her head. Neither of them said anything for a moment until Shacklebolt spoke with a strangely soothing voice.

"Miss Granger, I assure you'll we'll take good care of him, but the sooner we set off the sooner we'll be able to get him back to you." Hesitantly, Hermione let go and took a step back, but Draco kept his eyes on her. He was fairly certain that his curiosity wasn't showing through, mostly because his emotions simply didn't register on his face most of the time, but for the first time in months it wouldn't have bothered him for someone else to see what was going through his mind.

"Bye Draco," she said meekly as the aurors led him through the gates. He watched her as one auror took hold of each arm. Hermione had already wrapped her arms around herself and adopted a by far meeker posture. It didn't look right for her to stand slightly hunched like that, with her head down a little. In fact it looked unnatural at the very least.

The last thing he saw before being apparated away was McGonagall putting a hand on his wards shoulder.

* * *

A sickly too full feeling had settled in her stomach, despite the fact that Hermione had only had one bite of toast and was chewing unenthusiastically on her second. She didn't want to do this on her own. The thought of being in the crowded halls without Draco made her feel ill and strangely naked.

This early in the morning the Great Hall was mostly empty. Nerves chewed at her insides as she waited for Harry and Ron. She knew what their first reaction would be when they saw her. They'd hug her. She didn't want them too. She didn't know why but the thought of them touching her made her skin crawl. And then there would be the questions. Questions she didn't even want to think about. Questions that made her feel ill.

The toast felt like rolled up sandpaper as she swallowed it and she soon regretted even putting in her mouth. Mundane thoughts became things of horror that she wanted nothing more than to avoid. Her stomach churned and her throat clenched. She couldn't be in the Great Hall when her friends got there. She just couldn't be. And she especially couldn't be there when the Great Hall was full to the brim.

Her throat clenched again with her stomach twisting. She threw her hand over her mouth and ran. Out of the Great Hall and along the corridors to the nearest girls toilets. She stumbled across the tiles and into a cubicle then fell to her knees just in time.

Despite what she threw up being mostly stomach acid and not even a lot of it at that, she still physically shaky and could feel a cold sweat forming on her brow. Flushing the toilet, Hermione struggled to her feet and slowly walked over to the sinks. Taking her time, she rinsed her mouth out and slashed a little water on her face.

Her nerves now tinted with anger. It was ridiculous for her to be so damn scared. Absolutely ridiculous. And the worst thing about it was that she _knew _how damn stupid it was. She knew that what had happened to her was because she had been captured by Death Eaters and spent more time than she cared to think about in the dungeon of the most evil man in England. Nothing like that could happen to her in Hogwarts. Not just because most of the people there wouldn't even entertain those kinds of ideas, but because she could probably beat the crap out of anyone there that would try it.

Perhaps it would be easier if she went to her lesson early and sat in the classroom. A full class was less intimidating than a full Hall and it would put off Harry and Ron hugging her. It would also give her a chance to get used to being around people without Draco being around.

* * *

"Bellatrix, while I don't particularly enjoy maiming people that may have a future use, if you don't remove your hand from my crotch I'm going to remove it from your wrist," he snarled through clenched teeth. Bellatrix quickly leapt back, hiding her hands behind her back. Still, at least the insane wench had the good grace to look ashamed of herself. The scar on her face, lopsided and long, was still an angry red. It still both amused and infuriated him that Draco had gotten around to doing that to her before he had.

"I'm sorry, My Lord."

"I did not summon you here as a whore." She bowed her head and stared fixedly at the floor. He wasn't sure if that was because of shame or hurt feelings and he really didn't care either way. "I summoned you because I want you to take four of my followers and go to Peru. Once there, locate a man named Felix Stravos in the city of Huacho. He has some important information for me." He took an envelope out of his robes and handed it to her. "Instructions on how to find him and how he should be dealt with when you do are in that envelope.

"And one other thing before you leave Bellatrix," he said half pleasantly as he discreetly dropped his wand into his hand.

"Yes my Lord?"

"Crucio." With a shrill scream that lasted only a blissful moment, she fell to the floor. Gritting her teeth and twitching as Voldemort glared down to her. He held the curse on her for over half a minute as she struggled to stay silent through the agony. Such a shame. He so enjoyed hearing the screams of the people that had angered him. And at that moment he was very angry. Angry at her, angry at the animals that had hurt his little girl, and most of all, angry at himself for letting that happen. Unlucky for Bellatrix that she was a viable target for all that rage.

His lip curling in disgust, he released her from the curse and left her panting on the wooden floor, still twitching. The moment she put her hand to the floor to push herself up, he harshly kicked her arm aside, causing her to fall yet again. Then with his foot, he roughly shoved her onto her back and firmly placed his booted foot on her chest.

Pointing his wand casually at her face, Voldemort said, "I had plans for Draco, very important plans. There was a reason I ordered you to preserve as much of the boys charm and appeal as possible. Now, thanks to you it's possible he will fail entirely, and thanks to some other pitiful idiots with poor impulse control, the other important piece of that plan may be entirely too traumatised to unknowingly play her part. If I give you, or any other Death Eater a direct order I expect it to be followed to the letter. You may not see why that order is important, just as the information I'm sending you to retrieve will mean very little to you, but that doesn't mean it isn't part of something bigger that I've not deemed necessary to explain to you. Just like the Malfoy boy and the mudblood." Internally he flinched at calling his daughter that word. Not only was her blood more pure than his with her pureblood mother, but he had never like speaking ill of her, despite the fact that he never meant what he said.

Pressing his boot down harder on Bellatrix's chest until she gave a small whimper. "Am I understood?" She gave a nod.

"Yes my Lord," she said quietly, clearly seeing that unlike when he tortured most people, rather than becoming less enraged, torturing her was simply making him even more angry. With a sneer, he removed his foot from the repulsive woman's chest and allowed her to get up.

"And Bellatrix. Disobey, or fail me again and what I've just done to you will seem like a memory of heaven."

* * *

A/N/ Thank you to VoldemortsNipple, Mirthfull and i hate umbrellas for reviewing the previous chapter. I greatly appriciated it.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Impassively, Draco tilted his head as he looked at the symmetrical ink pattern that the smiling middle aged woman was holding up for him. After roughly ten minutes of being questioned by aurors they had decided that he needed psychiatric help instead of legal help. That might have had something to do with his description of his aunts training techniques making one of the aurors run from the room with a hand clapped over his mouth, presumably to throw up.

So they had dragged him into this warm none threatening room, chained him to a vaguely comfortable chair and let this overly happy bint start to poke around in his mind. Though what she thought she would accomplish by bringing out the Rorschach cards he had no idea. So far she had shown his seven of the things and all he had seen was ink in a random pattern.

"A lighthouse on an island," he said blandly. Well, it kind of looked like that he supposed, but right now he was just hoping that this would end. His patience for this was wearing through extremely quickly. She seemed pleased with his answer and moved onto card number eight. This one was somewhat easier as is reminded him of a picture from a book his mother had often read to him as a young boy. "Two women at a cooking pot." Again she gave a smile and a nod. He didn't see anything in the next two cards either, and let her know only by a small shake of his head.

"Do you have something against speaking Draco?" she asked in a soft and abhorrently motherly voice. "Every word you've spoken has been a necessity in answering my questions. I've met your parents and you certainly didn't pick up this quality from either of them."

"I've nothing against speaking, it's simply something I've fallen out of the habit of doing," he told her, his voice as drab as always.

"And why is that Draco?"

"I spent approximately five months in the company of no one but Death Eaters. I had no desire to participate in conversations revolving around rape, torture, elaborate methods of disembowelling or the mass murder of muggles." The woman stared at him, her smile now gone and her mouth hanging open slightly. After a moment she forced her smile back onto her face, though it was somewhat more nervous now and he saw her give the chains holding his arms down a furtive glance. As though she was worried he was about to escape and lunge at her.

"So you didn't speak at all?" He didn't answer what had to be one of the most stupid questions he had ever been asked straight away. He looked the woman in the eye for a short time before replying.

"I spoke when what had been said to me required an answer. To do otherwise would have led to being tortured at a higher frequency." At that her fake smile fell a little and her saw her subtly gulp.

"You were tortured?" He gave a single nod. "How often?"

"Whenever I made a mistake or said something that was deemed inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?" He sighed, trying to hold down his annoyance.

"I used to have a very sarcastic sense of humour coupled with poor impulse control. A combination of those two factors led to me saying a lot of things that angered those around me."

"And your sense of humour now?" she asked. He stared at her and slowly blinked.

"Do I really seem like someone with a sense of humour to you?"

* * *

Almost hyperventilating, Hermione closed her bedroom door and stumbled back. Her hand on her chest and her stomach still twisting. The back of her knees hit her bad and she fell onto it. Forcing her breathing to slow down in the hopes that it would somehow calm her down, Hermione rolled onto her stomach and crawled up towards the head of her bed.

Laying her head on her pillow, she hugged her knees to her stomach. She couldn't do that again. Not today. Not without Draco. She just couldn't go to another lesson. She just wanted to be alone. At least for a while. But not really alone. She wanted Draco nearby. Though she wouldn't admit it to him, she wished that she could sit in his arms, even for just a little while.

Yes she had only been half conscious when he had carried her through the grounds and the castle to the hospital wing, but she remembered how she had felt. Safe. Warm despite her loss of blood. Like someone cared. She knew he was just doing what he had been ordered to do, and by the bastard that was to blame for her current fear of people at that, but there was something about him that was just, well, comforting.

She knew it didn't make sense. He was a highly trained and dangerous Death Eater, yet she clung to him like a scared little girl whenever she got nervous and without him to cling to she was a wreck. And she was worried about him, about how they were treating him at the Ministry. She had seen that the magical world was more barbaric than the muggle world and she didn't like the thought of him going through a harsh interrogation, chained to a steel chair while aurors threatened him.

A knock on her door brought her out of her thoughts and back into her infuriatingly irrational panic. "Hermione?" said a muffled female voice from outside. "It's Ginny. Can I come in?" She gave a sigh of relief before climbing off of her bed and walking over to her door to open it a crack and look out. The red head was on her own thankfully, with a concerned smile on her face as she tried to peer around the door. "You ran off before we could really talk to you. I convinced the boys to go on to the Great Hall. They're worried about you." Stepping back a little, Hermione opened the door further and gestured for her friend to come in.

"Sorry I ran off," she said, closing the door behind Ginny. "I'm just really not ready to go somewhere with that many people yet." Well, it was a half truth, but it was close enough.

"It okay, I mean I know you must have been through hell and back," Ginny replied, dropping down onto Hermione's bed. "If you want to talk about it-"

"I don't," she said forcefully. "I don't even want to think about it. Everytime I do I just get panicked or angry." She walked over to the window and stared out across the grounds. There were only a few students out and the grass was tinted white with frost. "Or both. And it's a different sort of anger."

"What do you mean?" Hermione's eyes narrowed at the world outside.

"I've never wanted to kill someone before, but now I do, and I've never wanted something so badly."

She heard Ginny gasp behind her, then the sound of the springs in her mattress moving. Soon a hand was on her shoulder. "You don-" She shot a glare over her shoulder. Ginny gave a startled yelp and stumbled backwards. "Oh Merlin! Hermione, your eyes!"

"What about them?"

"They're red."

"What?" In disbelief, she rushed to the mirror above her desk.

Not only were her eyes red, but they were serpentine. How? Her reflexion looked strange compared to everything else was well. It was somehow dull where everything else was sharp and clear. Unnaturally sharp and clear now she paid attention. Anger ebbed into curiosity and as it did, the red faded from her eyes and her pupil became round again.

"What the _hell_ was that?"

"Voldemort," Ginny answered.

"What?"

"He must have done something to you. A spell or something. Why else would he order someone to get you out of there and stick close to you?"

"You know about that?" Hermione asked.

"McGonagall told us, she wants us to keep an eye on Malfoy if he gets back." Hermione's grip on her desk tightened until her knuckles turned white and she gritted her teeth. Her gaze fixed on her reflexion as her eyes once again flooded with red and the pupils elongated. This time she noticed the change in her vision. Dull to sharp. Fast to strangely predictable. "So," Ginny said after giving an awkward cough. "What do you think he did to you?"

"Whatever it was, I don't remember it and Madam Pomfrey didn't find anything but the obvious wrong with me."

* * *

Draco watched impassively as McGonagall read over the report that the irritating therapist woman had prepared. They were standing in a bland waiting room, despite the fact that there were comfortable looking chair available. It was almost as though they both knew that the other had no desire to linger.

There was a look of poorly disguised horror on McGonagall's face as her eyes slowly moved back and forth over the parchment. After two days of constant questioning and prodding at the state of his mind Draco's patience had worn down to the ground and he was about ready to break out of this low security, high paper work purgatory.

He had almost hoped that Hermione's coin would start ringing so he would have an excuse to leave. Though from the look on McGonagall's face he wasn't sure if she wanted him back in Hogwarts. He was well aware that he wasn't the most mentally balanced person and it was possible that she wouldn't want someone with "borderline sociopathic tendencies" (as the psychologist had put it) near her pupils. But then she also knew that if he wasn't allowed to protect Hermione there he would take her elsewhere.

"Well, Mister Malfoy," she said eventually, sounding somewhat frazzled. "According to this you shouldn't be any threat to the other students or, well, to anyone that doesn't try to harm Miss Granger. It's also been recommended that you continue to have therapy, but I can't force you too."

"Then I'm not going to. The woman that I've had to endure here was bad enough." McGonagall pursed her lips and gave him a half hearted glare, as though she was considering forcing him into therapy anyway.

"Very well. I've also been asked to inform you that as you are the only member of the Malfoy family that is not a wanted criminal, control of your families assets has been handed over to you."

"Is that even legal?"

"I doubt it, but right now people don't really care about that sort of thing when it comes to Death Eaters and their families anymore." Typical. Passing over his father he could understand as the man had been in Azkaban until he had broken himself out, but his mother? As far as he knew she hadn't done _that_ much illegal and certainly not because she wanted to.

"While I can think of a few good reasons not to have you back in Hogwarts after reading this, I can think of even more compelling reasons to offer you your place back. Though it is not without conditions. You aren't too far behind with your studies, but in order for you to come back as a student after Christmas you must pass a written and practical test for each of the subjects you wish to pursue. I'm sure your more than capable of doing this, but if you desire it then teachers will be available to assist you in picking up your studies." He didn't say anything, not even when the silence was clearly making his Professor uncomfortable. There was simply no need to respond to what she had said however.

Eventually she cleared her throat and took his wand of her pocket. "I was also instructed to return this to you." Again without a word, he accepted it. It was good to have it back, even though he didn't strictly need it to escape or do some damage he certainly like knowing that he would have a lot more flexibility with his magic was almost comforting. "I'm assuming you'll need the library, so you're free to come and go from Hogwarts as you wish, within reason of course. I must ask that you stay out of the Slytherin common room though. Some of the students in your House have shown open hostility towards you."

"You're secluding me for my safety?" he asked, somewhat doubtfully.

"For theirs," she replied. "You're by far the superior duellist and if any are foolish enough to attack you they would end up in the hospital wing, not you." She paused, as though waiting for him say something, and he had the vague feeling that upon a time he would have said something sarcastic. Now however he simply didn't feel the need to.

"Is there anything else?"

"Only that you'll have to make your own way back, and that you should probably check in with Hermione. She hasn't been doing too well while you've been here."

* * *

A/N Thank you to Mirthful, i hate umbrellas and sh for reviewing Chapter 5. I know that this is slow to start, but bare with me, once it gets going it'll more or less keep up a good pace. This is more or less just aftermath, a couple more chapters and I'll get to the meat of the story.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Bellatrix watched, standing stock still, as the nightclub steadily burned. The flames reaching up to try and lick at the sky and spewing out thick black smoke like a drunk would vomit their last meal. The scent of it was sickening, as beautiful as fire was, she hated smoke. It clung to everything, including the inside of her nose, making her feel ill for hours after her exposure to it.

The burning building belonged to Felix Stravos, the man her Lord had sent her to find. Her nerves were still raw from the curse he had set at her, and she was looking forward to taking it out on someone. While pain and pleasure were entwined like two lovers to her, there was still a point where the pain became too much and crushed all pleasure that she as feeling. Her Lord knew her limits, exploiting them with ease and the last time had been no exception.

What were his plans for her nephew and the mudblood? Something wasn't right about it. While her Lord could be secretive, this was the first time he had seemed, well, so easily provoked. Perhaps he had taken a liking to Draco. It was a rare occasion that the Dark Lord liked someone, but it wasn't totally unknown. He had had a Squib following him around for quite the length of time before his first fall and Snape's sense of humour seemed to amuse him whenever he had over heard him speaking to someone he loathed. Hell, he had even developed a small soft spot for herself, giving her a little more lee-way than his other followers.

The mudblood however had no explanation. She did look familiar though. Unsettlingly familiar. The wild hair, the slim build, the defiant chin. That damn right hook that had caught her on the jaw. Though who the girl reminded her of was beyond her. The girls nose and eyes were familiar in a different but still illusive way as well. Not quite as unsettling, but by far more annoying as she had the feeling that those features should have come easily to her.

"Bellatrix, we have him." A small smile touched her lips and she turned around to face Crabbe and Dolohov as they held the arms of this Felix behind his back, forcing him onto his knees.

"You're a long way from America mister Stravos," she told him, her smile turning wicked. "And an irritatingly hard man to find." His blond hair gleamed orange from the light of the fire and he tried to remain proud despite the beating he had received and the three teeth that had been knocked out.

"I know who sent you, and I know who you are," he said through gritted teeth.

"Do you know why we're here?" He glared at her, defiance shining in his pale eyes.

"Yes. And I'll tell you nothing." Her smile widened and she removed a long wooden box from the bag at her feet.

"Oh good," she purred, opening the box to reveal the toys inside. Taking out her highly polished scalpel and holding it up in front of her eyes. The small blade gleamed beautifully in the fire light. Sometimes pain alone wasn't enough to loosen someone's tongue. They had to see themselves being undone, being broken before they would talk. "That means we can cut straight to the torture."

Knowing what was coming, Dolohov pulled the man's hand out in front of him. Smiling at the panicked expression on Felix's face, Bellatrix knelt down before him and took a firm hold of his thumb. With precision that came from years of practice, she slid the point of the scalpel under the nail. Blood rose up the moment the blade bit into his flesh. She heard his breathing speed up as he gave a small guttural growl of pain. Slowly, and with a back and forth motion almost like a saw, she sliced the nail away to half way across. Then she shifted her grip lower down the scalpel and pressed her thumb over the bloody nail.

Grinning, she stared the defiant man in the eye. Then closed her eyes and ripped the nail away from his thumb. He gave a low groan, obviously trying not to scream. Despite that, she still felt a small throb between her legs. Oh she had almost forgotten how much she enjoyed the more messy methods of torture. She so rarely got the chance to indulge in it. While the screams brought about by the cruciatus curse were blissful to her ears, nothing could compare to the shivers, the begging, the cries and all the other wonderful little things that a knife could bring about.

Opening her eyes, she held up the man's nail in front of his face with a content smile as he stared at it in abstract horror. That was a look you simply didn't see when torturing the magical way. His eyes followed it, his jaw shaking in numb shock as she dropped the nail.

She savoured every whimper and cry of pain as she removed the rest of his finger nails in much the same skilled manner. Yet he still didn't give in. Good. Perhaps he would last until the really invasive work.

* * *

After a quick trip to the Malfoy Manor to collect some clothes and other essential items, Draco apperated into the Shrieking Shack. It was habitable, just. But he wasn't one to make a fuss about living arrangements anymore. He didn't stay there long, he had no reason to. As soon as he had stored away his things he set off through the tunnel and towards Hogwarts.

The corridors were empty and a glance to his watch told him it was because everyone was at the evening meal. He had no desire to walk into the Great Hall and have everyone stare at him, so instead he headed for the library, hoping that Granger had had the same idea since he didn't know where her room was.

The library was as empty as the corridors had been, with even Madam Pince in absence. It seemed like he would have to go into the Great Hall after all. Well, so much for avoiding dramatics. His right hand twitched towards his wand in the only show of mild annoyance he gave before he turned around, only for a small red head to collide with his chest.

She gave a startled squeak as his hands latched onto her arms to stop her from falling. Ginny Weasly looked up to him, her blue eyes wide with fear or possibly apprehension. Though it looked as though something else was mixed in there as well. Something weaker than he had grown accustomed to seeing. Something like . . . "You're hurting me." Pain.

Draco released his hold on her. It had been so long since he had participated in any friendly contact he had forgotten what sort of pressure was required to not hurt someone.

"Sorry," he said blandly, realising that he didn't sounds even faintly apologetic. "Do you know where Hermione is?" She stared at him for a while as though she wasn't entirely sure what she was looking at, rubbing her arms where he had previously had an apparently too strong hold on her.

"She's in her room."

"Can you take me there?" She nodded and gestured for him to follow her.

"It's a good job that you're finally back. She's been a mess since her first day of lessons. She flinches away when any guy tries to touch her, even Harry and Ron and she knows they'd never hurt her." She glanced at him as they walked out of the library and down the corridor. Most likely expecting him to say something, but he saw no reason to respond to what she had said. None of it required an answer and he would no doubt discover Granger's state of mind when he entered her room. She hadn't asked any questions and he had none to ask her. "Her eyes keep flashing red when she's angry as well." That could be problematic in hiding her heritage. "And, well, she's told me that she wants to, erm, kill the people that got to her. You won't let her do that. Will you?" He glanced over to the red head. Her eyes were wide and pleading.

"That depends entirely on whether or not letting her kill them would do more harm than good," he replied, looking straight ahead.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, somewhat warily.

"Psychological damage can be just as dangerous as physical harm. It can lead to many self destructive behaviours, such as eating disorders, self harm, an irrational and extreme phobia of the outside world, not to mention suicide. If her killing the people that induced such behaviours helped her to overcome the psychological scars that her ordeal no doubt left her with I wouldn't stand in her way. I would however ensure that she didn't get herself killed doing so."

"You can't be serious." That was definitely horror in her voice. He had heard that tone often enough in the last few months to recognise it.

"I don't joke anymore." Perhaps his tone was slightly different from his usual bland monotone when he said that, but he was sure he saw Ginny shiver in response and she didn't speak again until they reached a boring looking door.

The red head knocked but there was no answer. Ginny gave a sigh and knocked again, this time saying "Hermione, it's me. I've got Draco with me."

"Come in," Hermione's voice cried out almost instantly. Draco opened the door and walked in, letting Ginny in before closing the door.

He breathed out slowly through his nose to hide his anger at how his charge looked. She looked tired, as though she hadn't slept since he had left. There was a strange sort of relief in her eyes as she looked at him, pausing for a moment before dashing over to him and wrapping her arm around him. He held his arms at his side, looking down to the top of her head, wishing that he had never gone to the Ministry.

He wished he could remember how to react to this properly. He knew that he was meant to wrap his arms around her in return, but the grip he had held on Ginny's wrist had showed him that he had lost the hang of friendly physical contact and he didn't want to risk scaring her off when he was meant to be protecting her. "I'm so glad you're okay," Hermione mumbled into his chest. "They didn't do anything horrible to you did they?"

"No," he answered.

"Good," was her only response, and he was thankful that she didn't ask him to elaborate. He had had enough of people trying to get him to talk lately.

"Where are you staying?"

"The Shrieking Shack, but I can come onto the grounds whenever I want."

* * *

His little girl was out there. That was the only thought that occupied his mind as Voldemort stared at his book shelves. The intention was to find something to read but regret prevented him from focusing on his task.

"You wish to speak with your progeny," Nagini hissed from the rug behind him.

"She's eighteen now," he replied in pastletongue. "She looks a lot like her mother, but she has my eyes. My stubbornness as well apparently."

"You're scent as well. And you still haven't told me if you wish to speak with her." He sighed, gave up on choosing a book and instead moved to his desk to take a seat at his desk.

"I don't just wish to speak with her," he said, staring at his off white hands. "I wish I could turn back time, give up this campaign and be her father." Wait there, off white? His hands had gained a little colour. He frowned. "Nagini, have you noticed a change in my scent lately?" He turned to look at his enormous serpentine friend as she lifted her head and tasted the air with her tongue.

"It's a little warmer," she said.

He clenched his fists then opened them up a few times. What could cause this? Was his body somehow healing of the damage he had done to it over the years?

The world became less static as he shifted his eyes to their more human form before closing them. An image of Hermione swinging her fist at Bellatrix as she was swamped by his Death Eaters burned in his mind. His eyes snapped open again as his stomach clenched in guilt and his chest tightened in realisation. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. A truly unpleasant smile that allowed his true mental state to shine through. His laugh started small and quiet but rapid became loud and manic until even Nagini slithered further away from him.

* * *

A/N Sorry about the delay, I've been really busy lately. Thank you to the one person that reviewed the last chapter (it's 1:15am and I can't remember you're name, sorry) and I hope to hear from more of you.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

He sat at the Slytherin table for breakfast, not seeing any real reason to sit at the Gryfindore table. Despite the distance, he kept a close eye on Hermione and was glad to see that she was actually eating, though she did keep glancing over to him as though to reassure herself that he wasn't going anywhere.

"What are you doing here?" Pansy hissed in his ear, sliding close to him and making sure it looked like she was coming onto him.

"Having breakfast," he replied blandly, ignoring her close proximity and paying more attention to Goyle who was taking his wand out in what he was sure the idiot thought was a discrete manner. He didn't let that stop him from pouring milk onto his cereal though.

"What makes you think that you could just waltz back here after what you put me through? I was worried sick, and now you've turned your back on everything."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Goyle," he said blandly as the idiot raised his wand. "I'm more highly trained in combat than you and I'm not used to having to hold back. The injuries you could sustain would likely be quite heavy."

"You can't order me around anymore Drac-"

"Don't be an idiot Greg," said Blaise from across the table. "You saw what he could do before he was trained by a bunch of cold blooded killers. Even you aren't stupid enough to want be the at the receiving end of what he can do now." A glance to Granger showed him that she was flinching away from Potter putting a hand on her shoulder and saying something to him. From the corner of his eye he saw Goyle sullenly put his wand away grab some toast and then storm off.

"You look like hell," Blasie told him, running his eyes over him as Draco ate his cereal without paying that much attention to the handsome black boy. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he replied blandly.

"Such a shame," Pansy muttered before slinking away from him to go and bother someone else. Blaise however didn't move, he didn't eat either. Instead he just sat opposite watching him with what might have been worry.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"I received training from multiple Death Eaters."

"And the scars? What about them?" For the first time that morning, Draco bothered to meet his friends eye and Blaise instantly shrank back a little. For some reason the mention of his scars irritated him. Possibly the faint shadow of vanity that lingered on despite all he had been through.

"They remind me that failure is unacceptable." Blaise glanced away as he went back to his food. The cereal didn't taste particularly pleasant, but it contained the nutrition required for breakfast. After a long moment of silence, Blaise spoke again.

"The other's might not be, but I'm glad your back."

Across the hall, Hermione got to her feet and began to make her way over to him. He had nearly finished his cereal by the time she reached the Slytherin table and sat down beside him. She had brightened up a little since he had escorted her here, but still looked as though she had barely slept. Still, the fact that she was here at all was apparently an accomplishment. Blaise eyed her warily, not quite knowing what to make of her. With a quick glance he took the reactions of the rest of the Slytherins. Hostile confusion just about covered it for the most part.

"I thought that we could go to the library once you're done," she said with a weak smile and a furtive glance to Blaise. "I can show you what you've missed and we can go over it together since I've missed a bit of it as well."

"That would be the most practical arrangement." At that her smile widened for a moment, becoming genuine for the briefest second before her nerves at being around the next generation of Death Eaters kicked back in. Blaise didn't take his eyes off her and he didn't like the way he was watching her. From the way Granger was squirming it looked as though she wasn't particularly happy about either. It didn't take him long to finish his breakfast and the moment he did, he stood up and gestured for her to do the same.

"Bye Draco." Not entirely sure why he bothered, he gave Blaise a nod before leaving with Hermione close by his arm. She visibly relaxed the moment they were out of the Great Hall.

"I hope I haven't pulled you away from time with your friends."

"You didn't." Granger gave a sigh of relief.

"Good. I wouldn't want to get in the way of you getting as close to back to normal as you can." She sounded genuinely concerned about this issue, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"I have no intention of getting back to normal."

"Oh," she said with a frown. He could tell from her expression that she wanted to say more and for the first time he felt the need to elaborate.

"Many of the people you saw as my friends were people I simply tolerated. Also, I am now fully aware of how unpleasant and pathetic I was and I have no desire to fall back into such behaviours as they would be detrimental to the completion of my current orders."

"So you want to just stay like you are now?" At that he shrugged, not really knowing what to say.

"I haven't really thought about it."

"I'd rather die than stay like I am now. Terrified of being touched, of being around people. Being angry all the time." She sighed and looked around. "Not being able to sleep for more than a few minutes, feeling sick whenever I eat something. It's almost enough to make me wish I'd died in that cell." He reached out and lightly touched the small of her back, an action that seemed to calm her. "What subjects do you take anyway?" That was an obvious change of subjects if ever he heard one.

"Potions, defence against the dark arts, charms and transfiguration. You?"

"The same," she said, casually taking hold of his arm as they walked and a teacher he didn't recognise passed them. "How did I never notice that? I knew you did potions and defence but I've never seen you in charms or transfiguration." He didn't reply, instead he glanced to the hold she had on his arm. Despite the lack of people around she hadn't let go. She had however noticed where his attention was directed and reluctantly removed her hand. "Sorry, you probably don't like it when I do that." He shrugged in response.

"I'm not used to this variety of physical contact anymore, but I don't mind," he said blandly.

"Really?" she asked brightly.

"If it helps then feel free. I was ordered to keep you safe and while helping you to recover emotionally wasn't specifically stated, I see it as necessary to your overall well being." Blushing a little, she hesitantly put her hand back on his arm.

"So," she said, awkwardly clearing her throat. "What do you want to work on first?"

"Whichever is most practical." This was quite probably the most he had spoken in over two months. It was strange but he was yet to find it unpleasant as he thought he would.

"Which do you enjoy most?" The question puzzled him somewhat. How long had it been since someone had asked him something like that?

"Isn't such information irrelevant?"

"Not to me," she replied with a smile and by giving his arm a slight squeeze. "I like knowing that the people I'm tutoring are at least interested in what we're doing and it can help me find the right technique to help you properly get to grips with the other subjects." He thought for a moment, but didn't come up with an answer until they were in the library and he was closing the door behind them.

"I would prefer it if we started with something other than defence. I believe I have a more than comprehensive knowledge of that particular subject." She smiled at him again, now seemingly in her element.

"Potions is a bit too practical to do in the library and without proper preparation, so charms or transfiguration?"

"Charms I suppose." Another smile and nod and she led him to the charms section. It didn't take her long to pull out all of the required reading, passing each book to him to hold while she searched for the next. There were only eight in total and two of those were for herself. It seemed like a bit much until he realised that this was studying to Granger's standards and that he should likely multiply this by four as he doubted her standards across subject would be any lower. Still, at least he had nothing else to do and it was better than having curses thrown at him nonstop.

Books selected, they picked out a table and Hermione took out her notes. "Okay, now you don't need to read all of these, the two by Needlwort you only need a few chapters of each and you'll probably wish you didn't even need that." Quickly she copied down the chapter numbers that he would need from her notes and a few page numbers where she had presumably found some interesting facts.

"Did you read all of these?" She glanced up and smiled with a slight blush.

"Yes, though I sorely wish I hadn't bothered. Charms is a subject that is harmed by its professionals. It should be a serious subject, but some of the waffle that get's past the editors that would be stripped out and ridiculed in any other field is ridiculous. Half the contents of these books might as well be how not to do guides."

She was chattery as she guided him through what he thought of as his recommended plan of action. The chapters to read, the exercises to complete to get a better grip of the theory, they even scheduled some practise time. He was glad to see her so animated and obviously enthused by something, he only wished that he could have matched it. It seemed that he had lost the art of conversation through his training, though Granger didn't seem to mind and more than made up for his lack of input.

The time went quickly, more quickly than he remembered time passing whenever he had studied before and Granger was much more helpful than he had thought she would be.

At around quarter past ten they packed up, checked their books out of the library and set off towards the dungeons. Potter and Weasley were already there, but the rest of the class were nowhere in sight yet. So he didn't intrude on her time with her friends, Draco hung back a little and leaned against the wall, watching with little interest.

"Have fun in the library?" Potter asked, standing near her but obviously resisting the urge to touch her. Granger gave a nod, wringing her hands together and glancing between him and her friends.

"Yeah, it was fairly productive. Of course I need to talk to my teachers to find out exactly what I've missed, but I think Draco and I will be fine." Weasley was eying him suspiciously, but didn't say anything, either to him or Granger. He ignored the boy, he couldn't even pose a threat if he wanted to. More students filed down into the dungeon as Hermione held a strained conversation with her friends. Eventually he bowed out, telling Granger that he would meet her in the Great Hall.

* * *

Severus sat in the corner of the pleasantly homely muggle bar, waiting for Minerva to show up. He wasn't entirely sure what or who he was looking for, but she knew the identity he had assumed via the use of polyjuice potion. Nursing his drink, he pushed the man's glasses up his nose and tapped his foot on the ground with some agitation. There was far too much that he needed to ask her about.

But all that was forgotten when a busty red head wearing a form fitting black latex dress walked into the pub and went to the bar. Her hips had a pleasant sway to them and her legs were long and shapely. Drink in hand she scanned the room. It was then that he noticed that she was wearing square spectacles. Minerva's square spectacles.

Sometimes he hated that woman.

Smiling when she spotted him, Minerva waved and walked over to sit opposite him in a lady like manner that clashed with her outfit.

"Simon," she said, her voice youthful and with a slightly Scottish lilt to it and her green eyes sparkling with mischief. He swore she had chosen that form purely to torture him. "It's good to see you again. How've you been."

"Stressed. The boss has me working overtime and then there's the nasty business of what's going on with my godson." He took a sip of his drink and fixed her with a carefully measured stare. "How is he anyway? You see him more than I do now." At that she grimaced.

"Not too good, the therapist wants him to have more sessions but he refused. Still, he seems to have made a good friend. Barely leaves her side unless he has to and is very over protective of her. And she seems to genuinely care about him. If all goes well he'll be starting school again after Christmas. We're all hoping that it'll bring him out of his shell a little and put him back on the right track."

"It sounds like his situation is improving at least. His mother will be happy to hear that. Speaking of which," he said, reaching into his bag and pulling out a thin envelope that contained all the information he had managed to gather over the last week. "I promised you an article on the rising violence in the North East, and here it is."

"Cool, this will really help with my degree."

"You just be careful with that, my boss will have my head if he finds out I've given it to you."

* * *

The footsteps were quite and perhaps even timid, but they reached him none the less. There was a pause, almost a minute long until eventually his visitor knocked at his trap door. "Draco?" came the quiet and nervous voice of Granger. "Is it okay if I come in?" He didn't bother getting up, he just stayed where he was. Lying on his back with his hands behind his head and his legs crossed at the ankles. He didn't even bother opening his eyes.

"Of course," he called back, just loud enough for her to hear him. The creak of the trap doors hinges met his ears, followed by the strain of the floor boards.

"Sorry about this, it's just, I can't sleep. I haven't managed more than an hour since I left the hospital wing. And I was wondering . . ." After a while it became obvious that she was too embarrassed to finish her sentence, though he was fairly certain he knew what she was going to ask. If she could sleep here where she felt safe.

"Do I have to move?" he asked.

"No," she replied timidly.

"Then do whatever you want." Silence met his ears for a moment before some quiet noises he couldn't quite decipher came from her movements. He assumed that she had been taking off her shoes when her footsteps were barely audible.

Then his eyes flew open as the mattress dipped and she lay down, pressed against his side with her head on his chest. He stared at the top of her head in shock, her hair tickling his skin slightly. She must have felt some change in his breathing as she tensed slightly and said "I'll move if you want me to." Did he want her to?

"No, it's okay," he replied, surprising himself slightly. The girl in his bed gave a sigh of relief, her breath rolling across his chest. "You can stay there."

* * *

A/N Thank you to Camille and Keke Koorime for reviewing th previous chapter. The next chapter is where it all really takes off.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Groggily and feeling well rested for the first time since her rescue, Hermione pushed herself up while rubbing her eyes. Draco moved as soon as she was no longer on his chest, sitting up himself. Still half asleep, she glanced to him. Her eyes fixed on his heavily scarred chest in horror. A large ugly red welt ran from his right shoulder to his left hip, other smaller scars peppered his torso. Some were burns, some were cut marks and others were the strange colourful marks of successful curses. A purple blotch of skin covered half of his right collar bone and green was splashed on his side. She knew what had caused those colours and the mere thought of it made her feel ill.

"You must have been though hell," she said quietly, her eyes lingering on the biggest of the scars he had. At that, Draco awkwardly cleared his throat and got off the bed to turn his back to her. Exposing yet more scars, though not as many he had on his chest. The green was still visible from this angle as well. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I just didn't realise how much they'd hurt you." Timidly, she stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head a little to look at her, showing her the scars on his face. Against her will, her heart warmed at the sight. Unlike the other girls, before he had been scarred Hermione hadn't found him attractive in the slightest. She had thought he looked boring, blandly pretty like a male model. Designed to be attractive without taking any risks. Now however he was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and every scar or blemish only added to that.

"It's irrational for these to bother me," he said, his voice as blank as ever as he gestured to his face and then his chest.

"Just because it's irrational doesn't mean it's wrong." Somewhat timidly, she moved around to stand in front of him and gently cupped his face in her hand and ran a finger down his longest scar. "Everyone has scars Draco." He had gone still again, the way he did when he either didn't like something or couldn't remember how a human being was meant to respond to what she was doing. "I have scars as well, a fair few of them after what happened, though most of those are in places I'd rather no one saw," she said, fully away that heat she was feeling in her face meant she was likely turning bright red. Draco was looking at her oddly and she awkwardly removed her hand from his face to stare down to her feet, wishing she had never said anything, or that she had noticed his scars in the night when he couldn't see her reaction.

"You don't think they're hideous?" Her eyes shot back to his face in horror.

"Of course not! How could you think such a thing?"

"I'm emotionally crippled, not visually." In any other tone, from any other man those words would have sounded like a joke or a vicious quip. But here and now and from his lips it was a simple fact with no emotion behind it. Determined to prove her point, Hermione started to unbutton her shirt from the navel upwards, stopping at the button below her breasts.

"Do you think these are hideous?" she asked, pulling her shirt out of the way of her stomach and revealing the many scars her torture had left her with, including a purple mark matching his. He stared at her in what might have been disbelief. She was never sure if he was feeling anything at all from his expression. Never the less, his eyes carefully examined what she showed him for what felt like an eternity. Had anyone else looked at her that way she would have squirmed and probably felt ill as she had when Zambinni had eyed her up.

"No," he said eventually. "Not at all." Suddenly feeling somewhat awkward, Hermione buttoned her shirt keeping her eyes low.

"It's a Hogsmede day today," she said, feeling a little nervous for reasons she couldn't fathom. "Do you want to come along?" Draco tilted his head and frowned slightly as though he didn't quite understand the question.

"I've been charged to protect you, if you leave the grounds of Hogwarts then I must accompany you."

"I didn't mean as a body guard." His frown deepened slightly. "I meant as a friend. After everything, I think we could both benefit from going out and having some fun."

"Making such a distinction seems unnecessary as I would have been with you either way." He paused, still frowning a little as he carefully looked at her face. Perhaps he saw the disappointment there or perhaps he somehow saw the point she was trying to make as he sighed and said, "very well."

Grinning, Hermione threw her arms around him in a hug. As he always did, his whole body stiffened and then relaxed after a moment. He moved his hand as though he was going to return the hug but it didn't get far before being moved back to where it was. Her smiled widened at the sight. Perhaps he was remembering how to act like a normal human being, or at the very least trying to remember.

She pulled back, her hand still on his skin. "Great. We'll meet you at the coaches at nine."

* * *

Granger and her friends were already there when Draco arrived at the coached. He gave a passing glance to the thestrals on his way but otherwise ignored the creatures. Granger had her arms wrapped around herself and was nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other with a fake smile on her face. She noticed him and her smile turned genuine as she waved at him and stopped her nervous fidgeting. Potter, Weasley and Ginny looked over to him, Luna looked in the opposite direction.

He considered trying to smile as he approached but discarded the idea. Hermione rushed over to meet him, taking hold of his arm as soon as she was at his side. "Thank Merlin you turned up when you did. If I had to listen to one more sentence about Snorklepuffs I was going to seriously injure that girl." He didn't respond, he wasn't entirely sure how to.

Regardless of his lack of response, Granger led him to her friends. None of them seemed particularly glad to see him there, though he never could tell with Luna. Her behaviour was erratic at best and he could easily see that she was somewhat traumatised by something.

"Hi Malfoy," Potter said blatantly reluctantly. "Looking forward to getting to Hogsmede?" No was his immediate thought on the matter but a glance to Granger changed his mind on his response.

"I suppose so," he said blandly. Granger smiled and squeezed his arm a little.

The journey was fairly quiet and most likely awkward, though he didn't care enough about that to notice and sat in cramped silence for the whole ride. For some unknowable reason they had crammed all six of them into a coach only meant to hold four which had led to Hermione sitting on his knee and Ginny sitting on Potter's to make space with Ron glancing at Luna every now and again and Luna staring obliviously out of the window.

It was a relief to get out of the cramped coach when they reached Hogsmede, though he soon wished that he'd put a warmer coat on. Snow had fallen over the village and frost had clouded the windows. Rubbing his hands together he scanned the crowd for possible threats as the others talked about where they should go first.

"How about Zonkos?" Weasley put forward as Draco blew onto his hands, using the steam from his breath to cast a wandless warming charm. Small female, brisk walk with hastily swept back hair. Surprisingly high threat, most likely no nonsense.

"Zonkos is rubbish," Ginny moaned. "Fred and George's joke shop is way better. Anyway, I need some new ink, so can we go and get the things we need before we start going around looking for things we want?" Tall fat man, balding and with cheap bland robes on. Threat level minimal due to lack of physical fitness and probable magical deficiency.

The bickering continued for a few more minutes before they agreed on Ginny's suggestion and set off for school supplies. Gathering the necessities didn't take too long and soon the group had split off with the promise to meet up at the Three Broomsticks in an hour for a warm butter beer.

Surprisingly, Granger led him to the Quiditch supplies shop first. After about thirty seconds of aimlessly wandering round the shop, his ward gave an irate sigh.

"Draco, you play Quiditch," she said with a note of defeat in her voice. "Can you help me pick out a gift for Ron? I'm usually very good at this sort of thing but I really haven't had a chance to think about Christmas this year." Huh, he hadn't even remembered that Christmas existed until she mentioned it.

"I can try," he told her. "Though I don't know much about what Weasley likes."

"He likes the Chudly Cannons," she offered in a hopeful tone. Draco frowned in mild confusion.

"But they're terrible."

"So I've been told, but they're still his favourite team." They wandered around the shop for a while, Granger offering suggestions and Draco shaking his head. Despite the awkward task, they completed fairly quickly, settling on a good pair of keepers gloves as Weasley's were second hand and about to fall apart and a pin up poster of Felicity Etell, the fairly attractive Seeker for the Chudley Cannons.

The book shop was the next port of call. He wasn't surprised and he certainly couldn't blame her for not wanting to go in there with her friends. He couldn't imagine Weasley waiting patiently as she looked for a book. He didn't linger too closely while they were in the shop as he had his own interests to attend to. It took a while but he finally found the book he was looking for, one on tattoo removal, bought it and went to find Granger.

She was still scanning the shelves, muttering to herself. Leaning against the wall out of the way, he carefully watched her. He had looked at her many times but for some reason he had never evaluated her threat level as he had with everyone else. Despite her ordeal he could locate no physical weakness except for the slightest shake in her left hand that struck from time to time, though something told him that was more psychological that physical. Perhaps because it happened when certain men spoke around her. Her strong stance and calculating gaze let him know that she would be a threat, though they also showed her lack of formal training. She was good, but not as good as him. Though if she used Eyes of the Dragon she would likely be better.

There was something else about her as well. Something about her that made him stir in a way he barely remembered and had forgotten the significance of. A mental image of the scars she showed him side by side with the state she was in when he took her from the dungeon forced itself into his mind. She seemed so far removed from the mess that she had been then. The way she stood tall and barely acknowledge the people around her. Still, he doubted that she would be so calm if he wasn't around.

The light glanced off her hair in the most interesting way, making it shimmer oddly when she tilted her head to look at a higher shelf. His eyes were drawn to her plump bottom lip as she bit it absent mindedly. She smiled, as her eyes landed on a book and she reached up to get it but the shelf was just out of her reach, even when she stretched out fully and rose up onto her tip toes.

Out of reflex, he strode forward and took the book from the shelf, Granger dropped back down and turned around, her cheeks bright red with embarrassment. "Thanks," she said shyly. "I hate using magic on books," Without a word, he handed the tome to her, wondering why she was so interesting to look at. He was sure there was a reason, but it had been so long, he could barely remember. Whatever the reason, she was a fascinating creature. Strength and weakness, independence and dependency, all rolled into one. No to mention her flawless face and the scars that lurked beneath her clothes.

Smiling at him, she walked off to the counter and he followed her. "Aren't you a little young to be looking into becoming an animagus?" the sales assistance said with a raised eyebrow.

"Hardly," Granger said with annoyance, handing over the money for the book. An explosion rang out through the air from outside as she put it in her bag.

Then his charge did the one thing that he had not been looking forward to. The thing that would make her incredibly annoying to protect.

She took out her wand in the blink of an eye and ran out of the shop. He ran after he, easily catching up and managed to get his free hand on her stomach and push her to the side so that they were against the building and he had time to evaluate the situation. Thankfully she seemed to understand what he was doing. This was a definite Death Eater attack. The people were in chaos, running one way and another, none of them were sure where the explosion had come from, but Draco knew it hadn't been too far away.

He quickly scanned the crowd and found the source, on the roves, and apperating from roof to roof, firing spells and then moving on. He motioned for Hermione to look at him, she did and the followed to where he was pointing, nodding when she realised what was going on. More explosions and screams filled the air.

"What are we-"

"BOMBADAR!"

Granger froze, her whole body going still and her jaws clenching. Her eyes flooded with red as the window of the book shop shattered, the shards flying both into and out of the shop. In a heartbeat and a pop, she was gone.

Only to reappear on the roof opposite where the Death Eater that had cast the spell was. Her wand slashed upwards and he screamed, but then she was gone again and bloody was gushing out of his torso. She reappeared behind him, this time her wand slashing vertically across his shoulders and again she was gone. In front of him again, but this time she used a different spell. A brilliant blue blast that sent the dying man flying from the roof his wand falling from his hand as he flailed.

Without hesitation, Draco apparated onto the roof, to her side and grabbed her. Her whole body was so tense that she was shaking. He apparated them back down to the street by the book shop. The explosions had stopped, this hadn't been a serious attack, it was just a feint. Something to remind people that Death Eaters could strike at any time. He had known that when it started. The only Death Eater left here would be the one that Granger had killed.

Her eyes were still blood red and serpentine, but there was something else that troubled him far more.

She fought as ruthlessly as Voldemort and even moved like him to a fairly noticeable degree. Anyone who had ever seen the Dark Lord in action would easily see the similarities and if they knew her they could well comment. This would not make it easy to keep who she was a secret.

He kept a firm grip on her as he guided her through Hogsmede, trying to find her friends. She didn't protest, she didn't say anything or even try and fight against his guidance. Her wand was still gripped firmly in her hand, but that didn't stop this from strongly reminding him of leading her out of the dungeon she had been in.

Her shaking was increasing and she was steadily slowing down. A glance to her face let him know that the red was slowly fading from her eyes and the realisation of what she had done was steadily sinking in. He changed their course and led her to a bench, sitting her down before her knees had the chance to give out. He remembered the first time that he had killed someone, and while he couldn't remember why it had left him feeling awful, he remembered that it had. He definitely remembered throwing up and crying.

He moved to step away from her, but her hand shot out and grabbed his arm. She was staring up to him, her eyes back to their natural brown colour, wide and pleading, though she didn't say anything. She didn't need to. He stood close to her and waited, hoping that her friends would come by soon.

It didn't take long for teachers to start milling around, looking for the pupils in the hopes of getting them back to the castle as soon as possible. He waves to attract the attention of McGonalgal as Granger kept hold of his hand with both of hers, staring at it and not moving other than to blink occasionally. She was coping better than he did.

The Head Mistress rushed over, understandably panicked. "Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy, thank Merlin you're alright. You need to get back to the castle."

"Granger killed a Death Eater," he said as though reporting to Lord Voldemort. "While I can't foresee this causing any trouble in the long run I thought it important to inform you so that you could monitor any detrimental changes to her mental health." The teacher stared at him with her mouth hanging open, then slowly turned her eyes on Granger.

"Apparate her to the Shrieking Shack," she said eventually. "I'll come along in a few hours once I've sorted everything out."

"As you wish." Keeping hold of his hand, Granger slowly got to her feet.

Again, he apparated, and not a moment too soon. The second their feet hit the floor Granger's legs gave out and her breath started coming sharp and fast. Without a word he picked her up bridal style and carried her to the bed to gently set her down. She clung to him, on the verge of hyper ventilating. Not sure what else to do and the panic that she was in worrying him, he touched the small of her back. It had always calmed her before and it almost worked this time. Her breathing slowed a little, but she was still trembling and she showed no signs of letting go of him.

"What am I?" she said, her eyes filling with tears. The question confused him. He didn't know what she meant or why she was asking such an obscure thing. "What kind of monster am I? I killed someone. They deserved it for what they did to me, but I killed someone and I don't _feel anything_." The tears finally came, trickling down her cheeks as her eyes reddened in a more human way. There was a strange uncomfortable twist in his chest as he realised he had no idea how to deal with this situation. Worse yet, that he wanted to. He wanted to remember how to help, so he could ease her pain.

"I don't feel guilty about it at all, and I killed someone. I cut him open and then- and then-" The tear came thicker and faster and louder. Choking off her words as she let go of his shirt and threw her arms around him, burying her face into his chest. He couldn't let her go through this alone. He had to do something, but what?

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, hoping that his voice sounded at least less cold if not comforting.

"Hold me," she sobbed, squeezing him tightly. "Please hold me." Hesitantly placed his arms around her, almost afraid to hurt her like he had Ginny. "Tighter, please." He complied, his back going strangely rigid with his discomfort at the situation. He had no idea if this was actually helping her, she was still crying just as loudly, and still shaking. He thought of pointing out that she was handling her first kill better than he did, but then he realised that was the problem.

She had inherited Voldemort's lack of conscience.

* * *

**A/N** Thank you to wanderingcub for reviewing chapter eight. I like hearing what people think of my work, so please review and if you ask any questions I'll do my best to answer them.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Jane looked up to the ceiling s she heard a faint popping noise over the sound of the stereo. A frown touched her brow. She knew that sound. That was the sound of someone apparating.

"What is it?" Lewis asked, looking up from his book.

"We have a visitor. Stay here, I'll go and greet them." He stared at her before realisation dawned on him and he went back to his book.

"Be careful." She nodded and went to the cupboard under the stairs, where her husband stored his sports equipment. She picked up his old cricket bat and quietly closed the door before heading up the stairs as carefully as she could. She checked the study and the master bedroom, her unease growing when she found them empty.

Her nerves growing, she took hold of the handle of her daughter's bedroom. Keeping a tight grip on the cricket bat and holding it ready to swing, Jane opened the door.

Then sighed in annoyance and put her hands on her hips after leaning the bat against the wall. Tom was stood by the desk, holding a faded purple dragon teddy with a large head and floppy wings, a slight smile on his face. The teddy was looking a bit worse for wear now, but that was hardly surprising considering its age.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped in annoyance. He looked up in surprise, the dragon still in his hands. His red eyes turned brown and flicked to the bat before going back to her.

"We need to talk," he said. From the tone of his voice she could tell something was wrong. Something was bothering him. "It's about Hermione." Her heart sank instantly.

"What's happened to my little girl?" He didn't put the teddy down, instead she saw his grip on it tighten.

"She's killed one of my Death Eaters. It was Goyle. You were right, she is going after them." Jane swallowed, her mouth going dry. Slowly, she gave a nod.

"What did you expect? She has our genetics and neither of us are particularly squeaky clean." Tom sighed and took a seat on the bed, the springs creaking slightly from their disuse. The cuddly dragon still in one hand, he dragged his free hand over his face. That was when she noticed he didn't quite look like he had last time she saw him. He wasn't quite so pale and she swore his nose was actually sticking out a bit now.

"I didn't want that for her. It's bad enough that we can kill without a thought but, it just doesn't seem right for her. She shouldn't be like us."

"But she is," she replied, sitting next to her old lover and putting her hand on his shoulder as he stared at the dragon. "She's a killer, like you and like me. But that doesn't mean she isn't a good person. She's better than either of us ever were or ever will be."

"I hope so," he said, sounding as though he had already been proven wrong. "I started with revenge and look where it's gotten me. And you, you started because of love and you've ended up married to a serial killer and you don't care. You even help him hide the bodies."

"He's got a smaller body count than you," she said, hoping to cheer him up a little. A small smile touched his face but faded quickly.

"She's got a better sense of right and wrong than we do, it's engrained in her. I did my best to make sure of that. She's even tried to get House Elves to fight for more rights. She is better than us, she's a good person."

"I can't believe she still has this," he said, blatantly changing the subject and still looking at the dragon. "I got her this before she was even born."

"It was her favourite when she was a little girl, she called it Mister Fixit. It went everywhere with her until she was about eight. She even took it to Hogwarts for her first two years." He didn't say anything in response, he just kept looking at the dragon. She took the time to examine him. Something was off, but she couldn't quite pin down what.

"Are you okay?" she asked after a few minutes of silence passed. "You seem a bit off somehow." He took a deep breath and sighed.

"Just, being here makes me wish that things had been different. We're messed up Janey, why did we ever think that we could have a normal little girl or a nice life together when we're both this-" he paused, seeming to be searching for the right words. "Insane," he said at last. She smiled. It had been a while since she had been called Janey.

"People always want what they can't have, but we've done well considering. Maybe the grandkids will be normal."

* * *

"I just . . . lost control," Hermione said, staring out of the window of the shrieking shack as he sat on his bed, watching both her and McGonagal carefully. Hermione still looked a bit shaky, but it had only taken her a couple of hours to calm down and, more worryingly, come to terms with what she had done. He remembered weeks of turmoil and guilt until it had finally broke and left him with nothing.

"I heard that voice, and I knew. I knew that he was one of the ones that got to me when I was captured. I couldn't ever mistake that voice. Or any of the others. And I knew what I had to do. Everything looked slower, more predictable. Instinct took over and I apparated. And I killed him. I would have done it to any of the others and I don't think I could stop myself from doing exactly the same if or when I come across them." She shivered slightly as McGonagal watched her with worry.

"I'm glad he's dead," she said, her voice taking on a cold tone that he had only ever heard Voldemort speak with. Cold and vicious and self satisfied. "And I'm glad I can remember every second of what I did to him. I even enjoyed it a little."

"Do you want to know who it was?"

"I don't care," Hermione replied, her voice still cold, but also mildly surprised. "It doesn't matter, he's dead. He can never hurt me again." The Head Mistress took a deep breath, clearly unnerved by how her favourite pupil was acting.

"Well, the aurors aren't going to investigate his death, as far as they're concerned this is just one less Death Eater to worry about." She paused and tilted her head as though hoping she could manage to see Hermione's face. "If you want to talk about it with anyone-"

"I'll talk about it with Draco."

"Right, well, I recommend you stay here for the night, stay away from crowds. Should I let your friends know where you are?"

"If they ask, but I don't want to see them until tomorrow. I don't think they'd like what they'd see in me today."

"Very well Miss Granger, but, just so you know, the staff at Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix are all here for you should you need us." With that, she apperated out of the shrieking shack.

Hermione didn't move. She stayed exactly where she was.

"She thinks I'm a monster, doesn't she?"

"Possibly," he replied. "Or she could think that you reacted as anyone else in your position would. People don't tend to survive what you went through so no one knows how they should react." She nodded but didn't respond in any other way. At least not for a while.

"Have you ever killed someone?"

"More than I can count." Another nod.

"Did you react this way?"

"No, but I was killing innocent strangers so the situation is non-comparable. I doubt I would have been violently sick and down trodden for weeks if I had been ordered to kill my Aunt or anyone else that trained me." She gave another nod. "How many were there were?"

"Seven," she said without missing a beat. "Down to six now."

"You're going to kill them all, aren't you?" She turned a little and looked at him over her shoulder. There was a pained expression on her face and her eyes had turned serpentine and red again.

"It's the only way I'll ever be able to sleep on my own again. Or walk somewhere without clinging to you. It might even stop me from being afraid or angry _all the time_."

"I understand," he said. The red fled Hermione's eyes the moment he spoke and she rushed over to the bed to throw her arms around him again. Still not entirely comfortable with the situation, he carefully put his arms around her in return as his back went rigid against his will.

"And I want to help," he continued, remembering how sick he had felt when he first found her. How angry it had made him. She pulled back a little and looked up to him with her eyes wide and thankful.

"You don't have to," she said, obviously somewhat reluctantly.

"Where you go, I go. I have to keep you safe and helping you through this is the best way to do that." She hugged him tightly again.

"Thank you, even if you're doing this just because you've been ordered to, thank you."

"There's a catch." She looked up to him again, clearly confused.

"What is it?" she asked cautiously.

"If I'm going to help you kill your tormentors, you have to not interfere when I kill mine."

"The people that trained you?" He gave a single nod.

"Primarily Bellatrix." She looked up to him with a slightly surprised look on her face.

"I can do that. I can let you kill her."

* * *

He heard the siren sound and panic set in . Loud ear splitting wails. The signal of an air raid. Rushing. He had to rush. The bomb would start falling soon. The subway was the closest. He had to get there. The image shook, grimy white tiles. Huindred of people. Then there was no one. The place was empty, barred. The siren still wailed rattling around in his skull.

A train thundered past. A modern train. But the platform was closed. Empty. Abandoned even. The image flickered, shook and trembled in unnatural way. Everything seem oddly slow and predictable, but at the same time it moved at its normal speed.

Closer and closer to the far wall, past the track, focussing on the empty advertising board. The past that, through the wall, into a cavern and still it kept going, past fire and darkness and the sirens were still wailing, threatening to deafen him. The image moved so fast it blurred until finally it slowed down to complete halt at a circular room. On a pedestal in the centre sat a beautiful tiara glinting despite the lack of light and around the pedestal was a circle painted in what looked like blood leaving about one meter between it and the wall. The image shifted again, closer and closer to the tiara until he could have sworn that it was right in front of his eyes.

It was then that fire leapt all about him and a laugh that could only belong to Lord Voldemort echoed through his head.

Agony coursing through his scar his vision returned, though it was blur at best. He was on the floor and could only just make out what might have been red hair. The pain burned brighter than fire and his vision started fading.

"Harry?" the word was distant and oddly warped ad he couldn't remember the significance of it. Wasn't he Tom? Or was that wrong? He couldn't remember. "Harry, don't worry, we're getting help."

The world faded to black and the pain was all that was left. Pain, and the knowledge that he had just been shown where a Horcrux was.

* * *

**A/N** Thank you to KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun for reviewing the previous chapter. Yes, Hermione has gone a bit "hard core". Just wait until she get's the hang of this killing people thing, there's a reason I put the rating at M.

Any way, don't expect updates to keep coming this quickly, though I am going to try and make sure I update at least once a month, but I have a job and my original work to fit this in around so I doubt it will much more than that.

As always, reviews are welcomed and any questions will be answered if I can do so without spoilers. Thanks for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

His heart ached as he watched his little girl through Potter's eyes. She sat beside the boys hospital bed with Draco standing at her right shoulder, his expression blank as ever. The youngest Weasley male and Ginny Weasley were close at hand as well.

Hermione wore a contemplative expression after hearing Potter's description of what he had seen. After a moment of thoughtful silence she finally spoke. "Sooooo," she began, then paused for a moment before adding in an upbeat voice with a smile on her face, "trap?"

"Yep, trap," was Potter's quick and equally upbeat response. Voldemort couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself at that. He had known that what he had shown the boy would seem highly suspicious but worth a try anyway. In all honesty he had simply wanted an excuse to see his little girl. He was just about to tune out and go back about his business, happy in the knowledge that he had seen his little girl smile when the Weasley boy spoke up.

"We're still going to check it out though, right?"

"Of course we are," Potter said.

"It's practically tradition for us to go off at every available opportunity and do stupid things that could potentially get us all killed," Hermione added flippantly.

"Are you certain this is wise?" Draco asked, stoic as usual.

"Oh heavens no," his little girl said. "But it's possible that a Horcrux is there and we need to at least have a look around. It'll take some serious-"

A knock at the door to his study snapped his vision out of Potters eyes and back to his own with a sensation like vertigo sweeping though him for a brief moment. His study swayed this way then that way and he shook his head to clear his vision. Better than nothing he supposed, and he would have plenty of time to watch his little girl in action later.

Slightly shakily, he stood up and walked to the door as the unwanted visitor knocked again. He took a deep breath before he opened it, making sure that nothing would look amiss with him. One or two apparent moments of weakness would be all it took for his Death Eaters to turn on him.

"Bellatrix? What's wrong?" She was looking to him, her eyes wide and fearful, her lace covered hands fidgeting nervously.

"I need to speak with you, My Lord," she said. "Privately." If he still had eyebrows they would have risen at that. Intrigued and slightly perplexed he stood aside to allow his most loyal follower to enter. His anger at her having abated somewhat with her successful completion of multiple missions, he decided to be kind and conjured her up an arm chair. It was less grand than his, but most likely as comfortable. While he had a reputation for being vicious and vindictive, sometimes showing compassion (fake as it often was) was the better method of ensuring continued loyalty.

"It must be serious for you to come to me in such a manner," he said smoothly. "Please, sit and tell me what it is that bothers you." She glanced uneasily to the chair but perched on it anyway, still wringing her hands. He sat opposite her, leaning back and watching her carefully.

"It's about Goyle's death," Bellatrix began timidly as Nagini slithered her way over to the woman to place her head in her lap. The witch gave a small start having not noticed the snake but soon settled down again and began to lightly stroke her head.

"Oh?"

"The girl that killed him," she said, obviously carefully choosing her words. "The Granger girl."

"What about her?" _Watch what you say here witch, you're already on thin ice._

"I believe I've worked something out about her."

"Yes?" he replied, accidentally drawing out the s into an almost hiss.

"She's ruthless in a duel," the witch began hesitantly. "Like you. And her eyes were bright red while she fought him, like yours." Fought was putting it a bit strongly from what he had heard and seen. She had out right slaughtered him before he got the chance to let off a single spell. "And her nose looks like yours used to. Her hair is like the pureblood Squib that you were with for a time. And you ordered no one to harm her and sent my nephew to watch over her."

"Yessss," his heart was pounding and aching all at once as Bellatrix refused to look him in the eye.

"Get on with it woman," Nagini hissed impatiently. "You're in my chair."

"Hermione Granger, she's. I mean." She paused again, squirming slightly. "You're her father." A strange warm glow of pride filled his chest, making him almost fit to burst with all the ache and pounding that was going on in there, despite the emotional anguish however he felt a smile slowly curving his less so than last week but still serpentine lips.

"How insightful of you. Now can you figure out _why_ I wanted as much of your nephews charm and personality to remain intact as possible?" The witch slowly licked her lips, an odd nervous habit of hers that he had noticed over the years.

"You wanted to present her with an appropriate match," she said timidly. He gave one slow nod. All the colour drained from the witch's face and she dropped to her knees on the floor before him. Without hesitation Nagini slithered into the vacant seat and carefully coiled up.

"I'm so sorry my Lord," she said, bowing low with her face practically on the floor by his feet. It was more amusing than satisfying and he felt the sudden urge to laugh at how ridiculous this all was. The bowing, the averting of eyes, even the address of "My Lord". He remembered Janey doing mocking imitations but only now did he realise just how funny it was. "I am truly sorry."

"Now do you see the value of obedience?" he said, trying to fight down a smile.

"Yes my Lord."

* * *

Draco sat in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express with his eyes closed, his arms folded and his legs crossed at the ankles. Hermione sat beside him, leaning against his side. Her friends were in the compartment as well and the train noisily made its way along the tracks.

"I can't believe you actually put down a bet on the Chudley Cannons," Potter said, his voice incredulous.

"This coming from a Glasgow Griffins fan."

"I have a good reason for that."

"Really?" Ginny said, sounding as though she didn't believe him.

"Well would you want fuck with a Glaswegian with a club?"

Hermione squirmed down, turning slightly and draping her arm over him. After a week and a half of sharing a bed with her and her near constantly attaching to his arm he had finally gotten used to this type of physical contact. From the sudden silence of the compartment however he assumed that the others didn't know how much she clung to him.

Without saying a word, he opened his eyes and glanced down. What he saw almost made him smile. Hermione had fallen asleep and nestled into his chest, trapping one of his arms in place. While she had been getting enough sleep since she decided to share his bed, she was still occasionally having nightmares and last night was the worst one yet, though she hadn't told him what the nightmares were about. Still, it was good to see her not worry for once.

"So, Malfoy," Ginny began, keeping her voice quiet. "What's your favourite quiditch team?" He glanced up, somewhat irritated at being acknowledged when he would have preferred for them to continue ignoring him.

"I don't really have one anymore," he replied, his voice a little colder than he would have liked. He hadn't really done anything that could be seen as recreational since his training began. "Though I do think the Glasgow Griffins are a better team than the Chudley Cannons," he added when he realised that this was their way of trying to involve him in the group. Thankfully Hermione woke up after about half an hour and saved him from having to act like a normal human being. He disliked talking to other people. Hermione knew that he was and didn't expect more than he was willing to give, but other people always wanted him to fully participate.

As soon as he could he went back to sitting with closed eyes and hoping that everyone thought he was asleep with Hermione still leaning on him. His charge chatted animatedly with her friends throughout the journey, talking about inane things that she never talked about with him. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted her to talk about such things with him. He had only just coped with responding to her talking about killing people and academia but he wasn't sure how he was meant to reply to more personal matters.

It was something of a relief when the Hogwarts Express pulled into Kingscross and they disembarked. He helped Hermione with her luggage, or rather he tried to and got sternly swatted away to the point where she ended up helping him. Once they'd retrieved their belongings, they left platform 9 ¾ to find Hermione's parents. They were stood off out of the way, between platforms nine and ten.

They greeted both Hermione and himself warmly, his charge letting go of him to hold onto her step father as they led them out to the car. Hermione visibly relaxed upon her re-entry to the muggle world. Draco however didn't let the apparent harmlessness of the population cloud his judgement. While he had little interest in the strange world of technology and magic-less living, he would need to ask Hermione some questions about the place as they would be living there for a week.

He gave Hermione a suspicious sidelong glance when her father managed to load all of their belongings into the boot of the car and she looked away innocently and got into the car. Shaking his head he got in next to her and fastened his seat belt. He was somewhat impressed at how efficient Hermione's mother was at embarrassing her. The older woman had barely got into the car before she somehow managed to make music come out of the front and started to sing along.

"Once I had a love and it was a gas  
Soon turned out had a heart of glass

Seemed like a real thing, only to fi-i-ind

Much o' mistrust

Love's gone behind."

Jane sang with over enthusiastic flair as Hermione hid behind her hand and groaned while Lewis shook his head and pulled out of the car park. She didn't exactly have a good singing voice, though it wasn't abysmal it was just bad enough to make him hope that she would stop soon. Unfortunately his hopes were dashed three songs later when Hermione seemed to decide that the best way to avoid embarrassment was to join in.

"Sweet dreams are made of these

Who am I to disagree

I travelled the world and the seven seas

Every body's looking for something"

Muggle songs were strange, he decided.

"Some of them want to use you

Some of them want to get used by you"

He highly doubted that any band in the wizarding world could get away with singing about sado-masochism. He had no idea what some of the strange instruments he could hear were either.

The drive was about two and a half hours, though with Hermione and her mother singing it felt more like four. Eventually they pulled into a nice but dull looking suburb and parked up in the drive.

* * *

Hermione felt a huge weight lift from her mind as she crossed the threshold of her bedroom with Draco lingering behind her. The Star Wars posters, the book case crammed to bursting with trashy sci-fi and textbooks and the microscope along with her fossil collection that took pride of place at the back of her desk, not to mention Mister Fixit.

Mister Fixit who should have been perched precariously on top of her wardrobe, above the table of elements she had carefully penned in with a black permanent marker and had jotted down notes around with blue paint. Mister Fixit who was instead sat slumped against the pillow of her bed, the purple clashing against the mint green of her bed spread.

She strode in, somewhat annoyed by the obvious intrusion into her room, grabbed her childhood teddy and strode straight back out. She stormed over to the top of the stairs.

"Mom!" she yelled down as Draco leaned against the wall watching her with a raised eyebrow and his arms folded across his chest. After about thirty seconds she saw her mother arrive at the bottom, "Have you been in my room? Mister Fixit had moved." Her mother frowned then rolled her eyes.

"I keep forgetting you have a photographic memory. We thought you were dead, of course I've been in your room." Suddenly feeling slightly childish and ashamed, Hermione bowed her head.

"Sorry,"

"That's okay hun, Dinner will be ready in an hour." Hugging her teddy dragon to her chest, Hermione turned back around to go and finish her unpacking, her eyes landing on Draco. He glanced to the teddy then back up to her face.

"Mister Fixit?" he asked, his voice dull and monotone with his head tilted. Blushing furiously, Hermione strode past him back into her room.

* * *

The bed was softer here than in the Shrieking Shack, but Draco had only been able to get comfortable on his side with his back leaning against the wall. Perhaps it was because he was no longer accustomed to such comfort, but there was a much more disconcerting answer to this dilemma however.

In the short time that he had been Hermione's guardian she had slept in his bed every night. The first she had shown up late and had almost shyly settled down. Every night after that however she had been with him and asked if she could stay, climbing into bed with him. He didn't like to think that he might be becoming as reliant on her as she was on him. He forcefully pushed down the growing need to roll over again. Perhaps her familiar surroundings had let her be at ease enough to sleep without him.

Almost as though his very thoughts had summoned her, he heard a door open, most likely the one opposite him. The soft padding of her footsteps across the hall was most likely his own imagination, his hairs stood up on end as a strange sort of anticipation rippled through him. He wasn't entirely sure what his body was anticipating, extra warmth perhaps, maybe just, no, he wasn't going to think like that. Not about her.

When his door opened and her saw her standing there, unsure and clasping that childhood teddy of her to her chest he felt even worse for his half formed thought. She looked so child-like and unsure, even more unravelled than she had been in the Shrieking Shack.

"Draco?" she said timidly, barely above a whisper. "Can I sleep in here, with you? You don't have to move."

"Feel free," he replied, hoping that his voice had at least attempted to reach comforting. She silently made her way to the bed, when she was pulling back the duvet, her dragon still held in one hand, he noticed that her eyes were red. It was hard to spot the pigment in the dark and the fact that she had been crying from the look of it didn't help.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as she climbed into bed and lay down with her back to him, brushing against him slightly. "I thought with being, being here I'd be able to sleep. Let you have a bit of time to yourself. You must be getting sick of me always being around." He hesitated, not knowing what to say.

So he didn't say anything. Instead he put his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. He worried that the hold he had on her was too tight, that he was hurting her when she started shaking slightly. Then he realised why she was shaking. She was crying again. No conventional comforts jumped into his head, but he knew what would calm her.

Out of impulse he placed a kiss on her neck, his lips finding mostly her hair and little skin. Leaning slightly he began to whisper into her ear. "It's alright. I won't let any of them hurt you. And when we find them, think about what you'll do to them instead of what they did to you. Think of what you did to the one we've already ran into." She squirmed, pushing herself further back, more completely against him. A strange little thrill jolted through him as he continued whispering vile suggestions and crude imagery.

Here was someone that understood. Understood completely and wasn't afraid. Wasn't disgusted. She didn't flinch away from his touch or avoid his gaze. In fact she was fighting to be even closer to him and occasionally made small sounds of approval. Her fingers dug into his forearm as she made another sleepy little humming noise. Until now she had been the instigator of anything more than a light touch, but she didn't seem to mind this. His instincts led him to start nuzzling her neck and behind her ear as he cooed his spiteful words. She sighed and gripped his arm harder. The force from her small but nimble fingers bordered on the painful but she made no move to push him away. She did stop crying though.

He didn't push their physical contact any further though he dearly wished he could. Instead he soothed her sleep with a lullaby of sick and twisted tales of torture and murder.

* * *

A/N Thank you to blackRoses15, unnamed, WordsbyMoonlight, wanderingcub, Beautiful-Liar13, hottopicgirl, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun and IGOTEAMEDWARD for reviewing Chapter 10. I really didn;'t think that many reviews had come through until it came to writing the thanks.

Sorry about the wait for this chapter, I hit a bit of a sticking point. Hopefully the next instalment won't take so long.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Hermione's mother was a peculiar woman. She never seemed surprised by magic. Out of sheer habit Draco found himself using the occasional spell and while Luke was interested and sometimes perplexed, and even Hermione shot him a look or two of surprise after growing up in a world without magic, Jane's shock and surprise were clearly fake and more often forgotten. She didn't ask for explanations of words that he knew should confuse a muggle, but her husband asked so Hermione can't have used them around her parents.

"Draco, do you mind giving me some help in the garden?" Jane asked, popping her head around the kitchen door. He glanced to Hermione before standing up. She was still curled up on the couch, perfectly still, her face down cast and her eyes on the carpet with that teddy still clasped under one arm. She had been like that for an hour now and while he knew the words to comfort this particular person he didn't want to say such thing to her around the people that thought of her as some innocent if scarred young woman.

He followed Hermione's mother out through the kitchen and into the back garden. A small thing compared to the garden at his family home, but it was lovingly tended to. Though what she could want him to help her with in the middle of winter he had no idea. As if to compound his suspicions, she further wrapped her cardigan around herself and sat down on the ornate bench on the wooden decking. Her expression serious, she patted the seat next to her, motioning for him to take it. While he would far rather stand it would have been bad manners, so he sat beside her, stiff and formal.

She leaned back into the corner of the bench watching him with cold blue eyes that somehow reminded him of his aunt. His right hand clenched into a fist without his permission and he forced the hand open again under her watchful eyes.

"I know Hermione snuck into your bedroom last night," she started, clearly thinking that she had the upper hand.

"And I know that you're a squib." Her eyes widened with horror at his calm and genuinely uncaring acusation.

"Did Tom tell you that?" He tilted his head slightly.

"I was trained to be observant. What happened between you and the Dark Lord is none of my business unless it causes Hermione further danger." The older woman blinked, then sighed and shook her head.

"And here I was worried that you had a one track mind focussed on something else." She looked back up to him, her expression troubled. "Do you really care about her, or are you just following orders." He frowned, but didn't answer. He didn't even want to think of an answer, it was too strange and too soon to even think about how he related to other people. Even Hermione. Especially Hermione.

When she realised that no answer was forthcoming she shook her head again. "Either way, you needn't bother sneaking around. However," she trailed off and glanced up to him again.

Before he could even blink she had somehow thrown him onto the wooden decking and there was one knife at his throat and another pressing against his groin. He froze, knowing the smallest movement could kill him or, in his opinion, do something far worse. There was no hatred in her face as she leaned over him, no anger, instead she had a soft motherly expression and a slight smile. In all honestly he would have preferred to see rage, it would have been considerably less disturbing.

"My baby girl has been through hell, and I don't doubt that you have as well, so I'm going to say this in a language that you definitely still understand." She pressed the curved blade of the knife she held against his groin more firmly against him. Oddly he didn't feel fear. Concern for his manhood? Yes. Surprise that Hermione's mother would do something like this? Mildly. Irritated that she had managed to do it to him? Absolutely. "I understand that she might need comfort, might feel the need to be around her saviour. But if you harm her, or push her further than she's comfortable with going, I _will_ dismember you. Understand?"

"Yes," he said calmly and quietly, the tiny movement making the knife at his throat prick his skin. The sting was tiny and insignificant but it served as a potent reminder. The older woman smiled and got off of him, rising to her feet. He was sure he didn't take his eyes off her but the knives had vanished without a trace, along with any body language that showed her true colours. She smiled and held out a hand to him. He took it without hesitation, used to far more brutal displays of dominance. She helped him to his feet, but he didn't thank her. He didn't say anything at all.

"Well, you've probably guessed that I don't actually need any help out here. Why don't you go back inside." A scheming smile twisted her features slightly and a light shone behind her eyes. The light of mischief that he had occasionally seen within Hermione. "If you want to try and cheer her up, tell Hermione that you've never seen something called "The Rocky Horror Picture Show"."

* * *

It felt as though her heart was beating like a hummingbird's as she watched Draco look down the lens of the children's microscope. He had been so sweet all day. Staying close by, watching Rocky Horror with her despite the obvious fact that he hated it, hovering over her shoulder while she went on a baking spree in the kitchen. She had even managed to raise a smile from him. Well, what passed for a smile with him and she was pretty sure it wasn't even faked.

"How is this done?" he asked, tilting his head to look at the pre-prepared slide that had come with it. There was almost some emotion in that voice, near interest.

"Guess," she teased. He stood back, carefully examining the contraption.

"I can think of twelve different spells that would do this," he began. "But I really have no idea how a muggle could do it and this things inner workings are hidden." A wide grin spread across her face as he turned to look at her, expecting an answer.

"Bent glass." His eyebrows raised.

"Impressive."

"It's similar to how glasses work but with a bit of added fiddling and tech that I haven't had the time to look into yet." Her heart was still pounding fast as her courage began to waver. Hermione bit down on her lip for a moment, mentally scolding herself for being so weak, even for a few seconds.

"Draco?" she began timidly. He tilted his head to show he was listening. Sometimes she could almost believe that he was getting used to talking to her, but most of the time he was as quiet as ever. Perhaps that was why he made her so nervous. She could barely read him. He was so stoic and silent. But last night. Last night for the first time since all of that _mess_ she had felt- She had wanted-

"Thank you, for last night," she said, taking a small step towards him. His eyes widened slightly but the little composure he lost was soon recovered as she took another step towards him. Her eyes flicked between his perfect scars and his grey eyes. "I know I must be a pain at times, but the things you said." Another step and there wasn't much space left. Biting her lip, she hesitantly placed a hand on his arm. "They helped, they really did." Her other hand rose up to rest on his shoulder and she took another small step as his eyes widened again, fixing on her with something indefinable.

Heart hammering almost violently in her chest, she closed the distance between them, rose up onto her tip toes. A moment of fear. Of hesitation. Plenty of time for Draco to push her away or move. Then her lips gently touched his. He stiffened for a second and she worried that she had gotten it badly wrong. Then his hands came up to rest on her hips and he began to kiss her back. His hands almost trembled, his thumbs digging in painfully only to relax and then dig in again.

He took a sharp breath and turned away from her. Blood rushed to her face and shame flooded through her.

"Sorry," she gasped. "Sorry, I thought- I'm sorry." She made to turn, to run, anything but to stay here with her embarrassment. A hand clamped on her arm before she could take her second step away. Hermione looked back to him, her eyes wide. The grip he held on her arm was firm, verging on painful and he glanced down to her arm as though unsure if he was hurting her.

"It's not you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't- I'm not gentle and I don't remember how to be." His eyes kept flicking over her in a way that would have terrified her had he been anyone else. But it was him and even though her stomach knotted and her heart pounded she fought it down. Because she was safe.

"I don't want someone gentle," Hermione breathed in response. "I want you." She felt a shift in her eyes that was all too familiar and her focus on Draco sharpened. She couldn't tell if he really was moving that slowly or if it just looked that way as his bicep trembled. His grip on her arm tightened briefly, bringing with it a definite but not unpleasant sting. Then he let go. His hand touched her hip and he glanced behind her some reason.

He was looking at her differently, the light glinting out of those not quite silver scars. Looking at her as though she was some sort of prey animal. Then, with his hand still on her hip he moved closer. She didn't know why, she just knew she had to. For every step forward Draco took she took one back. Their eyes locked. Her back hit her wardrobe but she didn't care. Should she have felt cornered? Trapped between someone she knew could kill her and the sturdy wood at her back? Whatever she was meant to feel didn't matter. All that mattered was that Draco was right in front of her and he was getting closer.

He glanced down to her hands before guiding one to his shoulder on the same side as his scars. Hermione's breath hitched in her throat as he then planted his hands on the wardrobe either side of her. Draco leaned in, not touching her with his body and his eyes never left her.

His lips pressed to hers once more. The kiss couldn't have been any more different from the first. This was harsh, primal. He bit her lip, Her nails dug into his shoulder on reflex, not sure if she liked this or if she should run crying. Before her mind could catch up his mouth was on her neck and one of his hand was buried in her hair, his short nails scraping her scalp by her ear as his thumb dug into her neck hard enough to leave a bruise, but _oh _she _definitely_ liked that. His teeth brushed against her neck and a small whimper rose from her throat.

Draco flinched then froze before pulling back to look her in the eye as though worried he had done something wrong. She whimpered again, feeling the loss of contact as keenly as a knife sliding through her flesh. Her hands seemed to act without her full permission. They dashed up to grab his collar and drag him back into her. Their lips meeting violently in the collision once again.

His body pressed more firmly against her own, his spare hand now gripping her hip once more, his digits digging in as he again grazed her bottom lip with his teeth. He was rough but in the most wonderfully peculiar way. He was all nails, and harsh pressure and teeth, but she could tell that he was still holding back. And in a strange way his biting and clawing and grasping felt less like being used and more like being worshipped.

Every small noise she made had him making sure she was okay and when it all became too much, when she felt his warm fingers on the curve of her waist beneath the Bugs Bunny t-shirt she was wearing he understood before she could freak out. His hand went back over her clothes and his head rested on her shoulder and he forced himself to breath more slowly, his arms shaking with the effort to be gentle, to not grip tightly.

There was a bit of an awkward moment when he finally stepped back and told her that he'd be back in a little while, but despite her blush she nodded and didn't say anything. She use the opportunity to quickly change into her pyjamas, feeling foolish wearing such childish nightwear after what she had just done.

* * *

When he returned to Hermione she was sat on her bed with her knees held tightly to her chest and she had changed into the same nightwear he had seen her in last night. Worry and shame rippled in his chest, an uncomfortable coil that felt too big to fit properly. She looked up to him and smiled a coy little smile, her eyes still red and serpentine.

"Are you okay?" he found himself asking. "I didn't go too far or hurt-"

"No, I'm fine," she interrupted hastily. Merlin those eyes. He half wished she had some control over them so she could have let the red seep out. As it was they reminded him of exactly what she was. A killer. And there was nothing more appealing about her than that simple fact. It dragged his mind back to a few moments ago, making him wish they had never stopped.

Her smile deepened and she gestured for him to come and sit with her. He took her up on the offer without hesitation but didn't touch her. Every fibre of him screamed out for contact after what they had just done, but he wasn't sure how welcome it would be. Apparently he needn't have worried as she leaned against him with her head on his shoulder.

"Shall we go to Diagon Alley tomorrow? I'm not quite finished my Christmas shopping." The normality of the question from her was almost enough to make him laugh. Instead he felt his lips curve up in a slight smile as he looked to the top of her head, her messy curls crudely tied back.

"If you want to."

* * *

Jane carefully set the three drinks down on the table as her husband and her former lover glared at each other in silence. They held the exact same pose of alpha male irritation, arms crossed, leaning back and eyes narrowed. Tom wore a glamour to hide his now monstrous appearance, making himself look more as she remembered. A cruel calculating move to remind the man he saw as some sorry upstart exactly who Hermione's father was. Lewis wasn't doing much better. The watch he wore was clearly magical to anyone that knew what to look for, a gift from her daughter.

She sat between them, wondering why she was even there and why they had come to this damn muggle filled pub anyway. Tom thanked her softly, finally turning his eyes away from Lewis. Her husband smiled but soon went back to glaring, realising that he had been discarded, he hadn't won.

"How is Hermione doing?" he asked, now ignoring her husband entirely.

"Better than I expected, She went into a bit of a daze this morning but it didn't last long and we managed to cheer her up," she replied with a shrug. "The Malfoy boy is a bit strange with her though." His eyes flickered red for a second.

"How so?" She shrugged again, taking a sip of her wine. Her mind flicked back to how he had reacted to being threatened that morning. Poor boy.

"He's like an over protective dog following around its master, all too glad to be on a leash and she's too happy to hold onto it for dear life."

* * *

A/N Thank you to LexieCoop, Saoirse Driscoll, PrivateNites for reviewing the previous chapter. This one has been proof read a little more carefully, you can thank Saoirse Driscoll for guilting me into do that. I usually just glance over things and hope no one notices if I miss something but their review prodded my conscience a bit.

The next chapter will likely be fairly short, I've got it in my head right now so it shouldn't be too long of a wait.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please take the time to review. As you can see, it actually can make a difference.


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